


Loving from Afar

by Arctic_comet



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24965038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arctic_comet/pseuds/Arctic_comet
Summary: Anne Wheeler is a nurse practitioner working at a community health clinic when she meets Phillip Carlyle, a pediatrician and recovering alcoholic.
Relationships: Phillip Carlyle/Anne Wheeler
Comments: 20
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

The second Anne opened her eyes that Monday morning, she realized she was late for work. There was way too much light outside for it to be 6:00. She was _never_ late for work. Cursing, she jumped out of bed and scrambled into the shower. _Why hadn’t her phone alarm worked?_ It just _had_ to be today, didn’t it? The entire clinic staff was supposed to be present at the staff meeting at 8 AM sharp. Barnum had finally found them a pediatrician, after she and W.D. in particular had insisted he try for the last four months or so.

It was hard for a clinic like theirs to hire specialists, since they mostly had to do basic health care on both adults and children, but obviously something had clicked. Their boss was weird enough for her to be cautious about any new hires, especially ones that were usually extremely difficult to find, but she’d give this doctor a chance. Of course he had revealed absolutely nothing about this new- and very important- addition to their staff, so all she had to go with was gossip and speculation gathered over the last two weeks.

Lettie had spied the last name _Carlyle_ in the documents concerning the new hire, but the only Carlyle either one of them was familiar with was the company Carlyle Pharmaceuticals and its CEO and owner Richard Carlyle, who golfed with Donald Trump, if Twitter was to be believed. The name was common enough, though, so Anne didn’t think too much of it. As long as they’d soon have someone who knew more about kids than the rest of them.She’d worked at the community clinic ever since finishing her Nurse Practitioner studies, and the patients they cared for, as well as her colleagues, had become her family. The pay wasn’t great, but she made ends meet, which was what mattered. What she wanted to do for a living was to help people, and there was nowhere else she’d rather do it than here. Knowing the people in the community was what made her job so great. Most people wanted more than that- or just flat out more money- which was what made it so difficult to recruit capable people.

It wasn’t that she blamed anyone who went for better-paid jobs, after being raised by a single mother she knew exactly how important money was. She was lucky not to be living with her brother anymore, but moving out less than a year ago had been a necessity, because his girlfriend had moved in, and there was no way she’d ever have agreed to live with a couple as mushy as W.D. and Jackie were. 

The downside to this new arrangement was that she didn’t live as close to the clinic anymore, which meant that getting to work took longer than it used to. Usually she’d take up in the chance for for exercise and bike to work, but she wouldn’t have time to shower in their locker room, so she sprinted to the subway station after having to go back for her lunch once. 

***

Phillip woke up so early that he ended up sitting in his car outside the clinic for a half an hour, even after a 3-mile run in Central Park. Truth be told, he was nervous even as he got his first look at the clinic from the outside. Across the street was a coffee shop, and beside it a diner and a pawn shop. The building itself was old, possibly from the 1940s. He had to wonder exactly what kind of facilities he'd be working in. It was his first day of work in over five months, when he’d first admitted his problem and entered rehab. There were no patients yet, so he could only assume all the people wandering inside at Thai hour had to be his new colleagues. He only knew P.T. Barnum, who had first left a message in his phone three months prior. Phillip hadn’t answered, of course, determined to spend at least half of the week either drunk or hungover. There had been simply too many sick days, and that was when he’d been fired. Then the day had come… When he hadn’t been able to help because he was a pathetic drunk whose hands shook. There had been another doctor there, thank God, but still… The woman had died, finally making Phillip realize he needed to make a change. 

Now, here he was, about to treat undocumented immigrants, the homeless and disadvantaged, for peanuts. His father had made it clear to him that he thought Phillip was insane and would ruin the reputation of his precious company. However, considering the company his father kept, he figured there was nothing that could be more damaging to a company's reputation. 

His new supervisor, P.T. Barnum, drove to the parking lot at 7:15, and Phillip followed him to the building.   
"Glad to see you here so bright and early," greeted the man. "Keep it up and we won't have any issues."

Phillip nodded. "Like I told you, I'm serious about this job. No more messing around."

"That's what I like to hear! The locker rooms are down in the basement. There are two, the one on the right is for men. You’ll find scrubs and a coat there, you can come to my office afterward.”

“Thanks.”

The clinic itself was clean and well-maintained enough, but as soon as Phillip descended the stairs, he realized that obviously a lot of prioritization had to be done when it came to maintenance. The lights on the stairwell were out, and there was a puddle of water in front of the locker rooms, with water dripping onto his head as he stood in the middle of it. Opening the door to the men’s locker room pushed out a strong odor of mildew. _Ugh._ His last workplace was a large private hospital that had only been used for a couple of years and everything had been in mint condition. This entire place was _quite_ different. He’d have to decide on a sum to donate later on tonight, and maybe some of it could be used for fixing the staff’s quarters. In all honesty, this was sort of what he’d imagined doing when he’d first decided to become a doctor. _Work where it was truly needed. Make a difference._

Somehow his dream of stopping other children from experiencing his little sister’s fate had been mangled into a rich alcoholic sleeping off his hangover while skipping the work of looking at another rich person’s child’s road rash. He hated the person he’d become and was sure Lena would’ve hated him too. And yet without her he would’ve never gone into med school, probably choosing to follow in their father’s footsteps instead. It would’ve been easier to hide his problem while taking some minor management position in his company. Hell, drinking too much would’ve even been more acceptable. He would’ve drank himself to death. 

After leaving his possessions in an empty locker, he grabbed clean scrubs and a white coat from nearby shelves and wrapped his stethoscope around his neck. He wasn’t going to get any readier than this, was he? 

Heading back upstairs, Phillip located P.T's office at the end of the hallway. "Corner office, huh? Nice," he commented as he entered the room.

"One of the perks of being the boss. Have a seat, Phillip."

“Would you mind telling me a little about the people here? At least some of them. It might help with fitting in,” he said.

“I’m sure you’ll fit in great, Phillip. But fine. We’ve got six doctors. Like I’ve told you, we all do basic, comprehensive healthcare, even if we’re specialists. Nurses… We have five, the best one’s Anne Wheeler, W.D.’s sister. Smart and professional. Then there’s Lettie, our receptionist, I don’t know what we’d do without her. She runs this place, if you ask me.”

“I thought that was your job,” Phillip joked.

P.T. shrugged. “I’m just telling it like it is. We’ve also got a physiotherapist, a psychotherapist and a nutritionist.”

“That’s a pretty good roster for a clinic like this,” Phillip murmured.

“I agree, but we’re still missing a lot of things and people I’d like to have here. As you know, funding is tight.”

“I know. Speaking of more serious things, do you think my past will be an issue here?”

“I’m the only one in the staff who knows, and you’ve been sober for nearly six months. Don’t worry about it, but stay away from booze, obviously. You’re what we need right now, nothing else matters.”

“What if they find out?”

“We’ll deal with it, then. But you’re staying on no matter what anyone says. You’re licensed, clean and have the credentials.”

Phillip didn’t feel particularly good about hiding the truth about his addiction. “Look, I’m not going to lie if it somehow comes out.”

“Suit yourself, but if you’re ready, we should get going. The break room should be full just about right now.”

“All right, let’s go. When do I see my first patients?”

“Hmmmm… I think Lettie set you up at with a patient at 9.”

 _No. No. No._ “You can’t be serious! I was thinking more like in the lines of _Wednesday_ or _Thursday.”_

“We can’t afford to wait that long for you to start seeing patients.”

Taking a deep breath, Phillip stood up. “Fine. Okay, looks like I’ve got a lot to learn.”

P.T. beamed at him. “They’re gonna love you! Now come on.”

***

At 7:57 AM, Anne was panting when she at last reached the break room, having changed in a hurry and then ran all the way up the stairs from the basement. Everyone had already gathered around Barnum, who stood there, beaming like it was Christmas morning instead of a regular Monday. Beside him stood a shorter and younger man, who Anne could never have believed to be their pediatrician. He looked like he belonged in one of those silly romance novels Lettie liked to read. Brown, styled hair, his body fit, and his eyes a piercing blue that could make a girl forget everything, including her own name. Hell, even her guts did a strange flip. _Damn._ She swallowed. The other nurses would go crazy for this guy, no matter what he was like as a person or doctor. 

She had to tell herself that the only thing she should be noticing about him was if he was qualified and capable of doing his job, especially with the kids. Everything else was secondary. 

”Good morning everyone!” Began Barnum. “Without further ado, I’d like to introduce you to our new pediatrician: Dr. Phillip Carlyle.”

He didn’t seem too happy to have the spotlight on him, but smiled at everyone, the expression reaching his bright blue eyes, making them shine in an earnest way. “It’s great to be here, I look forward to working with all of you,” he said politely, his eyes sweeping over everyone in the room. There were some audible murmurs of welcome and Lettie even smiled at him before giving Anne one of those meaningful looks of hers. _Look at him._

***

Everyone seemed nice enough, but some eyed him warily. It was to be expected probably, and he was desperate to prove himself. Suddenly _she_ was there, standing in front of him, holding out her hand to him. He didn’t know her name, but felt a tug in his gut when her dark eyes met his. She was drop dead gorgeous, wearing dark blue scrubs like everyone else, her curly hair tied on a high ponytail. His addict-self would’ve wasted no time in going after her, but now that he no longer possessed his previous booze-induced confidence, all he managed to do was stare and helplessly accept that his face felt abnormally hot. This was definitely not how he normally reacted to beautiful women, but how many had he been around since becoming sober? Not that many. 

“Phillip, this is Anne Wheeler, our nurse practitioner.” So this was one of their best. 

“Hi.. I’m Phillip,” he introduced himself.

“Anne. Welcome aboard,” she said, shaking his hand. Her smile was polite but not overly warm. _Because she probably noticed he was staring like a moron._

After splashing his face with some cold water, he was ready to see his office and soon meet his first patient. 

***

“Did you see-“ Whispered Lettie intensely as Anne leaned to grab a pencil off her table.

“I’m not blind, Lettie,” she replied in a song-song voice, going through her patient records for the day. As was usual, her day was mostly filled with female patients coming in for advice on reproductive care. 

“Seems nice enough too. The whole package.”

Anne snorted. “We’ll see. He’s been here for less than two hours.” As her eyes spied a pile of files on Lettie’s desk, she frowned. “Uh, what are those for?”

“They’re Doctor Carlyle’s patient files for the day.”

“He doesn’t have them yet?”

“I think he’s still trying to log into our systems. You could take them to him if you wanted to.”

Anne ached a brow. “Oh really? Fine. But you need to stop matchmaking-“

“It’s called _shipping,_ sweetie.”

“Whatever. Stop it,” she said firmly, taking the files. They really needed to move to a fully electronic database, but the transfer would take time none of them had. It sure would make it easier for new staff members to familiarize themselves with everything.

***

The community clinic was unlike any clinic or hospital he’d ever worked at. They didn’t have all the instruments he was used to, nor access to the newest medications. It was going to be an experience for sure, but he’d agreed to this because he wanted to make a difference, hadn’t he? Also a little because understandably nobody wanted to hire a pediatrician with an alcohol problem. Barnum had given him a chance when many others would’ve shunned him, and for that he would always be grateful. 

The nurse practitioner- Anne- suddenly walked in, carrying a stack of files. _Stay cool._

“I heard you don’t have access to all our systems yet, so here are your patient files,” she sighed, setting them on his desk. “I’m sorry about our system, it’s not the easiest to figure out.”

“Uh, thank you, you really shouldn’t have bothered.” He should’ve realized to ask for them himself, possibly from the friendly receptionist. _Lettie._

“I’ve cared for some of these kids since their moms were pregnant, so I just want to make sure they’re well taken care of,” she explained.

“I’m sure they appreciate it. How long have you worked here?”

“Around four years now. Came here straight after graduation.”

He smiled at that. “And never felt like working anywhere else?”

”Not really. This is a good place to work, I hope you’ll see that, too.”

Oh, he sort of already was. He stood up, looking for an ear lamp when something fell out of his pocket. _Shit,_ he cursed, knowing immediately what it was that had fallen out of the hole in the pocket. Anne picked it up, her eyes obviously widening when she seemingly realized what the red chip was. The almost-smile she’d given him before was now gone, turned into a horrified frown. 

“I, uh. I’ve been sober for almost six months now. Never went to work drunk, or anything. Took a lot of sick days,” he stammered before realizing he was babbling. _She didn’t ask for your life story, you idiot._

Anger flashed in her gaze even as she handed the chip back to him. 

“Does Barnum know?” She asked tensely.

He nodded. “Yeah, he does. He’s kind of the only one who agreed to give me a chance,” he admitted. He’d promised to be honest, but it was hard to reconcile with the fact that now this sharp and gorgeous woman was looking at him as if she hated him. 

“It’s no wonder,” Anne muttered, her lips drawn tight. He was left with the suspicion that there was more she wanted to say, but instead she turned on her heels and strode out of the room. 

Maybe his father had a point this time- even a broken clock was right twice a day, right?- and he was truly insane to come here. The alternative didn’t appeal to him much after spending nearly six months not working at all, but maybe everyone would be better off if he told P.T. this wasn’t going to work out. After today, that was. There was no way of getting out of this right then and there. 

***

Their new pediatrician was a recovering alcoholic, and Anne was livid. Barnum had always been somewhat weird and was known for making unconventional hires and decisions, but this one sure took the cake. _How could he do this to them, to their patients who counted on them?_ These people had nowhere else to go! Not to mention that now they would essentially have an addict treating addicts. Anne herself saw alcoholics and drug users nearly every day she worked. Did Carlyle even know he was going to be meeting addicts who so far hadn’t managed to kick the habit? And unfortunately she had seen far too many of their patients want to get clean but still cave in eventually. It was a long and hard road for anyone. 

Frustrated, she smacked her cup on the counter, the sound resonating in the break room. 

“What’s up with you this morning?” Asked her brother, pushing her aside to reach the coffee maker.

Anne opened her mouth, planning on telling him everything, but something stopped her. Something about how she’d been taught by her mama that everyone deserved a chance. Something about sincere smiles and blue eyes and swearing he’d never gone to work while under the influence. She could keep an eye on him for now, and then take her concerns to Barnum if needed. After all, as far as she knew, Phillip Carlyle wasn’t guilty of any crime.

“Just didn’t sleep well last night,” she replied.

“Well, get some coffee and try to stay awake, sis.”

”You too,” she returned, smacking his arm playfully.

“How’s the new doc doing? Saw you take him that pile of patient records earlier.”

She shrugged. “I think his first patient was supposed to come in at 9, haven’t seen him after that yet. By the way, we’re almost out of coffee, and according to the list on that fridge door over there, it’s _your_ turn to bring the grounds.”

W.D’s smile grew even wider. “Maybe, but I think it’s only fair for the newcomer to take his turn before I take mine. You know how generous I am with things like that.”

She stuck out her tongue at him. “I’m sure he’ll be grateful and totally not consider resigning first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I knew you’d see things my way, Anne. See you later!”

“And you still owe me for that sub, W.D!” 

***

“So, uh, is this patient a regular?” Phillip asked Lettie in a low voice at 8:54, showing her the file of his first patient. _Michael Padrakis, aged 10._

The receptionist smiled at him kindly. “Oh, little Mikey’s been coming here since I started. So yeah, he’s a regular. His entire family is.”

“Right. Thank you.”

“They’re a lovely family, but…”

“But what?”

“Their boys are a handful.”

“Good to know.”

“Good luck, Dr. Carlyle!”

According to the files the boy had broken his leg while skateboarding around six weeks earlier. His new x-rays showed that the fracture was healed and the cast could be removed. It should be a simple enough procedure, but Phillip feared he was rusty after so many months of inactivity. The kid also had asthma, and recently his parents had reported that his symptoms were getting worse. 

“You’re new,” complained Michael, his eyes narrowing angrily. 

“Yes, I am, but I’m good at what I do, so don’t be nervous. I’ll just remove the cast and we’ll set you up with an appointment with our physical therapist.”

The 10-year-old crossed his arms and glowered at Phillip. “I don’t want _this doctor_ doing it,” he told his parents.

“Michael, this is the only doctor available here,” explained his mother, shooting Phillip an apologetic smile. 

“I don’t care,” argued the boy. 

Taking out the supplies he needed, Phillip approached the boy again. This was going to take time unless he flat-out ignored Michael’s opinion, but he hated forcing any procedures on kids. So his next patients would have to hold on. 

“Look, Mikey- do you mind if I call you that?”

“I don’t care what you call me.”

“Okay. Mikey, I’m Phillip and I’ve treated kids like you for a long time. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see someone you know this time, but I promise I won’t hurt you. If it hurts, I’ll stop.”

The boy eyed him again, maybe looking slightly less hostile than before. “I want the nurse.”

“Which nurse?” Asked Phillip with a sigh, although he was reasonably sure which nurse the kid meant. 

“The one who gives me stickers. Anne.”

“Anne gives you stickers?” He asked, then shook his head. “I mean… I’ll be right back.”

Anne’s office was right next to his, because he was the unluckiest bastard on this side of Manhattan. Gathering his courage, he knocked on her door, hoping against hope she didn’t have a patient in there. Needing her help with literally her first patient he received would definitely convince her that he was capable of doing his job. 

“Come on in,” she called out. 

He cracked the door open and stuck his head inside. She was sitting behind her computer, typing away. “Something wrong?” She asked, removing her eyes from the screen. 

“Michael Padrakis is asking for you. He won’t let me remove his cast. He also mentioned something about stickers.”

Grinning now, she opened a drawer and took out a box. “I’ve got them right here. Lead the way,” she ordered.

”You said _you’d_ take my cast off,” complained Michael as soon as he saw Anne enter the room.

“I know I did, Buddy, but you need to see a doctor for your asthma anyway,” she explained. “Can I interest you in these super cool Captain America stickers?” She then asked.

Phillip watched the boy hesitate. “I still want _you_ to take the cast off,” he whined, accepting the stickers nevertheless.

Anne turned to Phillip. “What do we do, Doctor?”

He sighed. “Take it off, I’m sure you’ve done it more often than I have, anyway. I’ll check out his asthma medication plan while you’re at it.”

She nodded, turning back to the boy. “Alright, I’ll take it off, and then you’ll be good for the rest of the time and take your meds, won’t you?”

Michael nodded enthusiastically. 

Once the cast had been removed, Phillip addressed the boy and his parents. 

“Do you take the asthma inhaler with you to school?” He asked.

“Yeah,” said Michael.

“Do you use it like you’ve been told to?”

The boy didn’t answer, but instead looked down, biting his lower lip. “I think he has a bit of trouble with that,” sighed his mother.

“It tastes bad in my mouth and burns my throat,” argued Michael.

“I know it’s not a lot of fun, but it makes you feel better as long as you use it.”

“Nobody else has to use a stupid inhaler.”

“I’m sure you’re not the only kid in your school with asthma, but you know, even some professional athletes, _Olympic_ athletes, have it.”

“Really?”

Phillip nodded. “Yeah. And they’re still among the best, as long as they take their medication.”

“I didn’t know all that.”

“Now you do. Will you be better with the inhaler from now on? Mark down every time you use it, either on paper or in your phone. Be honest. We’ll keep an eye on the situation for a couple of months and if your symptoms aren’t any better, then you’ll come back here and we’ll see what we can do. Okay?”

Once the door closed behind the Padrakis family, Phillip inhaled deeply in relief. Only ten more to go.

***

Lunch breaks were reserved for office gossip with Lettie and occasionally the other nurses, as well as keeping an eye on the clock to make sure she wasn’t late for her next patient. However, this time Anne stared into the screen of her phone, silent. Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t have typed Phillip’s name into that search bar, but she told herself it was nothing but common sense to do that now.

The first result stunned her, blood freezing in her veins. He was Richard Carlyle’s only son. The fact evoked something strange in her... Disappointment, maybe. She tried to imagine Phillip living like his father did, agreeing with him, and found it hard. Especially after seeing the next search result, which was a short article about him setting up a scholarship in his sister’s name in NYU. The 8-year-old had did of cancer. There was even a short video clip of him talking about how she’d inspired him to become a doctor. It was the same Phillip she’d seen all morning.

Then again, the search also revealed some photos of him at parties, looking as handsome as ever, but his eyes were glassy, unfocused. He also had a different woman at his arm in just about every photo. Made sense, probably, except that he seemed a lot less cocky now. _Which one was the real Phillip Carlyle?_

***

For the rest of the day Phillip lived in constant fear, waiting for the moment he would inevitably screw up again. It didn’t come, so when his last patient was out the door, he slumped against his desk, exhaling deeply. _Only the paperwork left now._ And for that task, his body required coffee. He’d call P.T. about resigning after finishing his duties. 

The hallways and waiting areas were empty when he walked down to the break room, giving him an opportunity to admire the art on the walls. Most of the framed works were simple charcoal drawings of animals, and a few of them seemed to depict faces he’d seen for the first time that morning. There was even one of P.T.

Whoever had made these was extremely talented. Yet the most impressive pieces were in the waiting area meant for kids, which was dominated by wall-high paintings full of color. The one he particularly loved was mostly in different hues of pink, purple and orange, with a huge tree in the middle and colorful birds sitting on the branches, a gorgeous sunset in the background. 

“Something wrong with the wall?” Asked a voice behind his shoulder. Phillip jumped, and turned to find Anne standing behind him, her arms crossed on her chest, a quizzical smile on her lips.

He cleared his throat. “No… Definitely not. I really like the art here, it’s all very impressive.”

“Is it something you didn’t expect to find here?”

“It would be impressive anywhere.”

“It was all made by one person. Pro bono, of course.”

“Really? Well, I hope they’re well compensated for their other works.”

“Not really, but I heard they don’t mind. The art is just a hobby.”

Stealing another glance at her, he had to wonder… “You’re the artist, aren’t you?” He asked. 

She chuckled. “Yeah, that would be me. Took me an entire day to finish this one,” she revealed, pointing at the tree and the birds. 

“How long have you been drawing and painting?”

Shrugging, she turned to face him, her eyes softer this time. “Since junior high.”

”You’re a woman of many talents, then,” he replied. “Look, I understand you’re uncomfortable with me working here,” he sighed. “I want you to know that I thought about it, and have decided to resign.”

***

Anne blinked in disbelief. “Resign after one day? Really?”

He nodded, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “I haven’t been a doctor for months now, and... You’re right about this not being okay. Your patients deserve better.”

”Did you know that we treat addicts here? Opioid addicts, mostly. But also some alcoholics.”

”Yeah, P.T. mentioned that before he hired me.”

”I see them every week. I see them struggle between the addiction and their families, their dreams. That stuff is evil... It twists their dreams, their personalities, corrupts their relationships.”

She watched him swallow and nod. He understood. Maybe she didn’t know what she was saying, but she didn’t want him to leave. In fact, it made her angry to think he was so willing to give up. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again. “You’re good with the kids, you know. And we need your skills.”

His eyes widening, he stared at her. “I- I thought you-“

”I don’t like quitters. You’re trying to rebuild your life, and were about to give up on one part of that after one day?” She hissed. “Do you want to be here?”

His answer was swift and decorated without hesitation. 

“Yeah, I do.” He stepped to her, stopping a couple of steps away. Too close for comfort if you asked her, because it made her heart race. 

“Then show us what you’ve got, who you are.”

He said nothing, but held her gaze, and she felt herself on the edge of getting lost in his eyes. The clinic needed him, but as for her... She’d have to be careful with this guy. 


	2. Chapter 2

When you were dumb enough to drive your own car to work in New York City, were kind of asking to get stuck in traffic due to a fender bender in front of you, right? Sipping his coffee, Phillip tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He was going to be late for sure, because the police still weren't at the scene, and the two drivers were currently in the middle of an argument over who was to blame for the accident. How he’d managed to avoid driving under the influence during his worst days, he still couldn’t really explain, although living a block away from a liquor store probably had something to do with it. Either way, it was the only mistake, aside from not treating patients while drunk, that he hadn’t made. 

The last two weeks he’d spent working at the clinic had been some of the best of his life, certainly much better than any he’d experienced since his alcoholism had spiraled out of control. Every day at work was different, and he felt like his life had a purpose again… He still doubted himself at times, but he hadn’t been able to get Anne’s words on that very first day- or the woman herself, for that matter- out of his head. More than anything, he was beyond happy he hadn’t left after one day.

Groaning as he watched the drivers began to trade punches, he speed dialed the clinic’s reception. He was going to have to tell Lettie to inform his first patient about the delay. At least there was a police car approaching them now, only a half a block away. 

“Good morning, Doctor Carlyle,” cooed Lettie. 

“You still haven’t learned to call me Phillip,” he noted. “Hey, sorry to call with bad news, but I’m stuck in traffic and since I can’t just leave my car here, I’ll be late for my first appointment.”

“All right. Hold on, I’ll see if I can get someone else to take them while you get here.”

“I can stay later today if you can’t find anyone, make sure I see everyone who’s scheduled to come in today.”

“Hmmmm… I’ll call you back, _Phillip_ , is that okay? And let me know when you’re close.”

“I will, thanks. Bye Lettie, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The police finally pulled into the scene and immediately cuffed both parties. As he passed the scene and the traffic got at least a little better, he realized he might have to miss out on his regular meeting that night. It wasn’t a big deal because there was another group right after it, but his sponsor Ben was always at the same group, and he looked forward to talking to the guy. 

***

Anne stayed busy with her substance abuse clinic patients that morning, only hearing of Phillip being late for work. She didn’t see him at all that morning, so she couldn’t tell how he was doing. She was fully aware of being controlling and silly, but... She worried. If he was to relapse, she should be the one to find out and make sure he didn’t hurt anyone, right? Besides Barnum, she was the only one to know the truth after all. It definitely had nothing to do with wanting to save him from public humiliation because she actually liked the guy. _Absolutely nothing._ Phillip was good with his patients, but she was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When you saw it often enough, you learned to expect it. Even that morning she'd met with a young woman who had been without heroin for three months, but after her boyfriend had unexpectedly broke up with her, she'd caved in and was now in shambles, the appointment mostly consisting of her crying. Addicts weren’t inherently bad people or anything like that. In fact, she was conceived most of them were more sensitive and kind than the average person, and that was one of the factors that tied into the beginning of their problem. Usually, as far as she could tell, evil wasn’t in the person, but in the substances that brought out the darkest aspects of humanity. 

At lunchtime she found Phillip sitting in the otherwise deserted break room, phone pressed to his ear and a microwave pizza in front of him. Making a face at the greasy pizza, she dug out her sandwich from the fridge as she sort-of eavesdropped on his conversation. 

“Hey. Look, I don’t think I can make it on time tonight. Got to work late. Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can tonight. See you next week,” he finished, placing the phone on the table. He looked stressed out, but not drunk or hungover. Frowning, she wondered if he’d just canceled a date. Why that idea stole half of her appetite, she didn’t care to look into at all, because it was none of her business.

“Had to cancel an important meeting?” She asked, dropping into the chair across the table from him.

His eyes met hers, temporarily stealing her breath away. He _had_ to stop looking at her like this. The man was too good-looking for his own good, that was for sure. 

”Kind of. That was, uh, my sponsor. I can’t make it to our regular meeting tonight, and he only comes in once a week.”

And now she was officially embarrassed. 

“That’s not good.”

”It’s only one night, or one week when it comes to him. I- I’ve done well lately.”

"You go to a meeting every night?"

He nodded. "At least five times a week."

Picking at her food, she grew silent. She should stop worrying about him, it wasn't her job. Her job was to look after her patients, and he wasn't one of them. 

"What's in your sandwich?" He asked, changing the subject. "It looks good."

"Mushrooms, onion. Vegan bacon."

"You're vegan?"

"Around 90 percent of the time, yeah. I admit to cheating sometimes." Mostly when she had dinner with her family. 

"My sister decided to go vegan when she was seven. Our parents were livid with her when she wouldn't eat our regular meals, but she stuck to her guns. I joined her a week later."

Hearing him talk about his dead sister made her eyes sting, but she didn't know what to say without essentially revealing she'd googled him.

His eyes turned sad. "She passed away when she was eight," he added.

"I'm sorry to hear that. You two were close, then?"

"Heather's sort of the reason I became a pediatrician in the first place."

“What does your family think about you working here?”

“You want an honest answer?”

“Definitely.”

“My dad’s not a big fan of my decision. To be honest, he’d prefer it if I’d stuck to my previous lifestyle. My career as a doctor has never meant much to him.”

She nodded, feeling sad for him. _How could his parents not be proud of a smart son like him who wanted to help people?_ Her mom couldn’t stop talking about her and W.D. and how proud they made her to all her church friends. Now she also kept yapping about her hopes of a daughter-in-law and for grandkids, thanks to W.D. moving in with Justine. 

“Richard Carlyle's your father, isn't he? Are you a fan? Of your dad’s, of what he does?”

“Jesus, no,” he shook his head, looking a bit offended that she’d even suggested he could be. With every day he spent working with them, it became harder and harder to associate him with the man who kept the prices of his company’s medications so high that thousands of people had no way of accessing them, and who was in records saying that philanthropy was hypocritical and a waste of time. 

“I’m sorry,” she relented, her tone softening. “I had to ask.”

“I get it, Anne. I’m not… I guess I _hope_ I’m not what you’d expect Richard Carlyle’s son to be,” he replied. 

She offered him a small smile, suppressing the urge to put a hand in his as it lay on the table. “You’re not.”

“Does everyone else know who my father is?” He asked, his voice growing quiet. _So this was another secret he didn’t want getting out?_

Anne shrugged. “I don’t know. They could have found out on their own, but I haven’t told anyone.”

“You’re keeping more than one of my secrets right now.”

“You got any more?” 

She'd mostly meant it as a joke, but something a lot like guilt flashed in his gaze, and he quickly averted his eyes from her. It would be a surprise if an addict like him didn’t have more than a couple of secrets. _Which was why she didn’t get involved with addicts._

“You already know the biggest ones,” he mumbled, getting back on his feet before heading to the sink to rinse his cup. His lie shouldn’t have bothered her, they’d known each other for only a couple of weeks after all, but it still did. 

***

The day hadn’t started out well for Phillip, and as soon as he got to his car later that afternoon, he realized it wasn’t going to end well either. His Tesla may have been spared from dents during the morning’s rush hour, but now there was a long gash on its side.

“Damn it,” he cursed as he took account of the damage. The silver paint of the side was scratched, probably keyed. 

“This your car?” Asked Anne.

He nodded. “Yup, I’m afraid it is.”

“Guess someone’s trying to tell you to not drive to work. This is New York City, after all,” she smirked.

“At least this baby doesn’t run on gas,” he bragged, smiling despite his irritation.

She snorted. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those men who calls their car by a woman’s name.”

Phillip chuckled. “I’m not one of them, I swear!” He argued.

“That’s good, because my brother _is_ just that guy, and we don’t need any more of them around here. But at least he's sensible enough not to drive to work.”

“Guess you lucked out with me, then.”

“Maybe. The jury’s still out.”

“I still do love this car, though,” he sighed.

“So do they, I’d say,” she replied, nodding at a group of three boys standing across the street, staring at his silver Tesla with wide eyes.

“Do you know them?”

“I’ve seen a couple of them before,” she recounted, stepping across the street to approach the boys. 

***

“Hey guys,” she started. “Cool car, isn’t it?”

The boys nodded in unison. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know who keyed it, would you?”

“No, ma’am,” said the tallest one of the kids. _Marcus Hollins._

Anne nodded, believing him. “I don’t think you guys would ever do something like that to that car.”

“Do you think- maybe he could give us a ride in it? He’s your new doctor, right?” Asked the smallest boy, staring at his feet.

“Well, we’d have to ask Dr. Carlyle, but I think he could be convinced. Come on, we’ll go and ask.”

The kids followed her back to Phillip’s car, where Anne nudged the oldest one. “Go on,” she prompted.

”Does your car go fast? They say these do.”

Phillip flashed them a friendly smile. “It accelerates fast, but we’d need an empty freeway to really appreciate it.”

”Could you still take us for a ride?” Pleaded the youngest of the bunch. 

Despite his surprise at the request, Phillip nodded. “Sure thing. But maybe you should make sure your parents are okay with it, too.”

”Nah, she says you’re okay. My mom trusts her,” said the little boy, nodding at Anne. He turned to her, beaming.   
  
“Well, that’s convenient. We’ll all fit in the car. Let’s go.”

The ride only lasted a few blocks, but it obviously meant the world to the boys, who kept asking where this and that was. What was it with men and cars? Anne rolled her eyes, but she felt like a burden had been lifted off her shoulders for the time being. This was pretty much exactly what the doctor had ordered for her after a tough day. 

“Do you want a ride home?” He asked Anne when they dropped the kids off. 

Chewing her lip, she considered her answer carefully. The sky was grey with the promise of rain, the wind was getting stronger and her day _had_ been kind of crappy. A ride in a nice, warm car sounded like something she shouldn’t say no to. However... He’d see where she lived. She wasn’t ashamed of her home, especially since what Phillip Carlyle thought about the way she lived really didn’t matter, but something about it made her defensive. She didn’t want to see him feel sorry for her or wonder how she could live in a neighborhood like hers. 

“It’s okay,” she answered, shaking her head. “I’ll manage.”

”If you’re sure,” he returned, sounding disappointed. 

“I am. Thanks for the offer, anyway.” She left Phillip with his car, taking the shortest route to the subway station. 

She was about halfway through the walk when the light drizzle turned into a full-blown shower, soaking her hoodie entirely. Shit shit shit. Striding more briskly, she jumped when a car pulled out next to her and honked, the driver’s window opening.

”Sure you don’t want that ride?” Grinned Phillip innocently from his warm and dry car. 

“Are you following me?” She snapped, enjoying the flush that crept up his cheeks.

“No, my car told me this was the route with the least traffic. Will you get in?”

”You’re persistent,” she grumbled, jumping into the front seat.

He shot her a flirty smirk that made her stomach lurch, his entire face now lit up by the expression. 

“Where to, Nurse Wheeler?”

***

The water on her hair made her brown curls more defined, which he loved. He hadn't got used to being around her without being affected by her beauty, but he was trying. Things were still awkward between them, but he found himself looking forward to seeing her every day. Sometimes he even wondered if she was flirting with him. Nevertheless, her entire demeanor could change within a minute and she'd give him the cold shoulder even when he wanted to make her laugh.

“I’d be home faster if I took the subway,” she argued weakly.

”But you’ve got to admit this is more comfortable. And there’s less people.”

“People aren’t bad... As long as you’re in good company.”

”Are you suggesting I’m not good company?” He asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

”I haven’t decided yet.” That was what he thought. 

Eventually she spilled out her address, allowing him to program it into the car's computer. 

"Does the rest of your family live close to you?" He asked, planning to stick to small talk. 

"W.D. and his girlfriend bought a house in Brooklyn, and my mom lives a few blocks from my place." Her dark eyes met his, the look in them suspicious, even resentful, as if daring him to make a rude comment. Now, this was why he didn't want people knowing who his father was. They expected him to be something, and in a way it was justified, because he had been that man for years. Now it only made him wonder if he should change his name. 

"That's nice," he told her with a nod. He hadn't talked to her brother much yet, but he knew the guy had specialized in orthopedics. 

"W.D. and I used to live together, but I've been on my own for a few months now."

"How's it going? Do you miss having a roommate?" He'd only ever had one in college.

"I like having my own space, so not really. I didn't mind living with him, but I think we're both happier this way."

They rode in comfortable silence, and when she nodded off, he was eventually forced to shake her awake when he pulled in front of her building. 

"Thanks for the ride," she said, shutting the door on him.

"You're welcome."

***

At lunch break the next day, he was more than surprised to find a sandwich with his name in the fridge. The handwriting was not his, and he had no recollection of bringing in anything like this. He unwrapped the neat package to find a short note enclosed.

_Enjoy your vegan sandwich, thanks for the ride yesterday._

_\- Anne_

He smiled, biting in. _How sad was it that this was the nicest thing anyone had done for him in years?_

After finishing the delicious sandwich, Phillip fiddled with his phone. He didn’t have a habit of googling himself. Or at least he tried his damned hardest not to, but the thing was… His new co-workers would do it, and whatever they read online, they would probably believe. Fortunately there wasn’t _that_ much about him out there, because it wasn’t him who had done anything to deserve fame, or infamy. It was about his family, mostly about his father and his company, and it had always been that way. He’d only been interesting because of his family’s money, and he figured being a drunk would make him even more appealing to certain members of the media. It was fortunate that when it came to this particular issue, he and his father did see eye to eye. At least thanks to his father’s connections, there were no articles on him going to rehab. 

What he found there as he scrolled was all lies, a life he barely recognized or remembered living in the first place. Except for the scholarship he’d set up for medical students. That was his only meaningful achievement so far. It had all been for his sister, who would hate what he’d become. In all his stupid fantasies where Heather was alive, he never started drinking in the first place, never became that unhappy shell of a human being and poor excuse of a man and doctor. Never had to wonder if he could’ve saved someone’s life by _not_ being extremely hungover. There was no changing who he'd been, and there was no way to fix the lies that anyone who googled his name would read. They'd think he was a douche bag and that his behavior at work was an act. Perhaps that was what Anne believed, but he was going to keep moving forward regardless of what she or anyone else thought. This was another thing he hadn't really thought through when he'd take up on Barnum's offer. Exhaling, he cleaned up after himself and returned to his patients. 

***

Two days later Phillip was preparing to reply to his call requests in the afternoon when the door to his office was yanked open and Anne marched inside, her eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?” He managed, staring at her in confusion.

“There’s a woman in labor right outside, come on! I’ve got supplies,” she assured him, grabbing him by the hand. "Lettie's calling an ambulance."

Without panicking, he followed her out the main entrance and outside, where there indeed was a woman, bent over in pain, leaning against the wall of the building. Oh, boy. He hadn’t seen labor since his med school days. 

“Hi, I’m Anne, and this is Phillip. He’s a doctor. We’re going to take good care of you and your baby.”

“Exactly. What’s your name, ma’am?” He asked, pulling rubber gloves on before crouching down. 

“Mar- Marianne,” she managed between the contractions

“How far along are you, Marianne?”

“Thirty-seven weeks. I thought I was having heartburn..” she trailed off.

“Is this your first child?”

Shaking her head, her face contorted in pain again. “No, my daughter is three.”

“Okay. Look, Marianne, I’m going to have a look at the baby and see what we have time to do here,” he explained calmly. “Can you get on the ground for a little while? Lean into Anne,” he instructed.

“Ohh- okay,” she agreed, and with Anne’s help she managed to sit on the ground and lean back into Anne, her hand squeezing hers. 

“I’m going to touch you now,” he warned her.

A simple examination told him all he needed to know. 

“Do we move her to a hospital?” Asked Anne.

He shook his head. “No time, I can see the baby’s head. I’ll carry her inside.” The baby would be along in minutes, so there wasn’t much time for anything at all.

She winced as he picked her up, right before another contraction struck her. “It’s very important that you don’t push now, Marianne, do you understand me?”

“Yes!” She screamed.

“We’ll go into my office, I’ll make sure we’ve got everything ready for her,”announced Anne. It made sense, as they could bring in all the supplies the newborn needed. 

The few dozen steps between the pavement and the gurney in Anne’s office were the longest of his life. He kept reviewing all he knew about bringing a baby into this world, and yet it wasn’t enough at all.

Anne, wearing rubber gloves, came back, taking Marianne’s hand when he settled her on her back. 

“It’s going really well,” she assured the woman calmly.

He turned around to find towels and clamps for the umbilical cord on a tray. Catching Anne’s eye, he nodded, giving her what he hoped was a confident and reassuring smile. After washing his hands carefully, he pulled on a new pair of gloves and then approached the patient. 

“Okay. Now, at the next contraction, push as hard as you can until I tell you it’s okay to stop.”

“All right. Is there any way you can tell if the baby’s okay?” She asked, looking from him to Anne and back, genuine fear in her voice.

They didn’t have the monitors a hospital would have, but… “We have a Doppler,” she suggested, motioning to the left. He followed her gaze, locating the device. 

“I’m not sure if this will work because the baby’s already so low, but let’s see,” he murmured, bringing the probe onto her lower belly. _God, please let this work_. But no, he couldn’t find the heartbeat. It didn’t mean anything was necessarily wrong with the baby, but there was no way of confirming that at this point, at least not by him.

“Let me try,” suggested Anne, gently taking the sensor from him. She moved it around with much more experience than he had, and there it was. The steady thump of a quick heartbeat. 

“There your baby’s heartbeat, Marianne,” she told the woman.

“And it’s normal?”

“It’s perfectly normal,” he swore. 

“It is. How about we get this baby out of you now?” Beamed Anne encouragingly. 

“Let’s do it.”

Ten minutes later Marianne’s efforts were rewarded with the cry of an upset infant, forced into the cold world. “You have a baby boy, Marianne. Congratulations,” he told her, his arms shaking from realizing he’d really just helped a child into the world. The feeling was exhilarating, something he’d never experienced without alcohol before. 

He quickly wiped the baby a little before listening to his heart and lungs, and then handed him over to his mother. “Everything sounds good,” he nodded. 

“Anne, will you stay here? I’ll go ahead and get the paperwork ready. I’ll be right back.”

***

“He’s so handsome,” commented Anne with a smile, tucking the baby into his mother’s arms. The little boy with a tuft of dark hair on top of his tiny pink head was too adorable for words. 

“Isn’t he? I think I’ll name him Phillip for that doctor of yours.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.” She beamed at the mother and the baby. _Baby Phillip._ The honor was well deserved, she had to admit that. 

"The ambulance is here," interjected Phillip as he returned to the room.

“Thank you, Doctor. Thank you for everything.”

“You did the work.”

“Even so, I’m naming him after you. Phillip, wasn’t it?”

Anne watched as his face turned red at first, but then his face broke into a grin so wide it stretched from ear to ear. 

“Wow. That’s a huge honor, Marianne. The biggest one of my life.”

***

“Has this ever happened before?” He asked Anne as they were trying to calm their still racing hearts in the break room later.

She chuckled. “No, this was a first one. But we’ve had some close calls before. Was this your first labor?”

”The first since my residency,” he admitted.

“It’ll probably be a while until we get another one, if that’s any consolation.”

”It wasn’t so bad, but I wouldn’t have survived without you,” he stated honestly, earning a nod in return before she pivoted to leave the break room. 

Believing he was alone again, Phillip refilled his coffee cup.   
  
“Phillip?” She called out, her body already halfway out the door. 

“Yeah?”

“You were pretty good today. I mean. You were great, she admitted.

“So were you,” he countered, because it was true. He’d been well on his way to panicville at first, but she’d kept him grounded. 

Anne shrugged. “It was a good team effort, I guess.”

They made a good team, and she’d just complimented him. _Things were looking up._

***

That Saturday morning was sunny, cloudless and just warm enough for Anne to leave her apartment with a light hoodie on top of her jogging clothes. The weather wouldn’t stay this for long, that was for sure, so she might as well take full advantage of it now. 

Despite there being absolutely no chance that she would get the place for herself, especially on a beautiful morning like this, she headed to Central Park. It was nowhere near where she lived, of course, and she would never live anywhere close to it with her salary, but it belonged to everyone in the city, and that included her. 

There was already a game of baseball going on, and there was an old lady feeding ducks, and she was forced to dodge a pair of large grey squirrels as she jogged along the gravel path. Reaching the outdoor gym, she stopped to wipe her forehead and have a drink of water. There were plenty of people around, and although people watching wasn’t what she usually did during her runs, her eyes were drawn to a dark-haired man doing pull-ups. It took her a minute to register that she was looking at Phillip Carlyle working out. Averting her eyes and running away was what she should’ve done. His body was nicely toned, but not too bulky. Just perfect, actually. When you combined that with his handsome face, those eyes that she always had to fight not to get lost in, as well as his rather nice manners and the kindness he showed at work, she was screwed. She’d never been a ‘live in the moment, seize the day’ kind of a person, which was why these feelings she was so quickly developing for Phillip confused and scared her. The only thing that helped was reminding herself that he was an addict, and people like that had a tendency to let you down in the worst possible ways. 

Suddenly his gaze met hers, making her swallow hard. _Busted._

“Anne!” He waved at her. “Hi!” Aaand with that, her chance of being able to slip away and pretend she’d never seen him was washed away. Waving back at him, she waited as he dropped down onto the ground and jogged to her, water bottle in hand.

“Hey,” she said.

“Do you come here often?” He asked. 

She shook her head. “Once or twice a week, sometimes not even that often. I don’t exactly live nearby, as you know. What about you?”

“I come here about three or four times a week. And yes, I live only a few blocks away.”

 _Of course he did._ He was the heir of Carlyle Pharmaceuticals, after all. Maybe he didn’t get along with his dad, but that didn’t mean he lived like the rest of them. “This is one of the things that help me stay away from alcohol,” he exhaled before blushing, as if realizing he’d said too much.

“Right, that makes sense. Well, it was good seeing you,” she said, wanting to end the moment as fast as possible, despite being fully aware that she was being rude. He’d always been nice to her and she was being hot and cold. He’d be justified in thinking she had to be unstable. 

“Anne, hold on!” He tried, and against her better knowledge, she turned back around to face him. 

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t had breakfast yet, and was about to head out for that after this. Would you like to join me? My treat.”

Anne blinked. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

The smile on his face faded, and he nodded. “Okay, I get it,” he replied. “I don’t- I don’t know why I asked. I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry. Let’s agree to forget about it?”

“Sounds good.”

“See you at work.”

“Yup, see you then.”

As she jogged home, she wanted to kick herself. That could’ve gone better. She didn’t have to be mean, and he hadn’t asked her out on a date or anything. _Hell, she'd brought this on herself by making him that sandwich, hadn't she?_ Colleagues could have breakfast together, even more so if they were also friends. It was hard to believe that a man like Phillip could be lonely and not have someone else to have breakfast with on the weekends, but deep down she thought that was exactly how it was. It felt unfair to deny him what she gave to all her other colleagues; her friendship, but it was not the same. She wasn’t attracted to any of her other co-workers. 

***

Art was her favorite hobby to spend free time on. She usually started with a somewhat clear idea in her mind of what she wanted to work on next, but today her brain refused to cough up anything that she should sketch on paper. There was a face, but she hadn’t done portraits in a long long time, not since the ones that were now hanging on the walls of the clinic. Not to mention that examining _that_ face was an awful idea. 

Yet that was how she spent her Saturday afternoon. With every stroke of her pencil, it was as if she was getting to know him. How the most difficult patients made his face grow tense, how he smiled at the scared ones… Now that she thought about it, she'd never seen him lose his temper.

Using charcoal should’ve been enough, but she found herself reaching for the colored pencils, too. A dozen different shades of brown for his hair, a half of that for his eyes. And still she failed to get it right. Her portraits only turned out good when she could work with a live subject, which was so not going to happen in this case. Never.

The next day she ended up at her brother’s for Sunday lunch. Usually they got together at her mama’s house, but W.D. and Justine had finished painting the walls and moved in recently and wanted to show off their new place. The family meal always left her so full she didn’t have to eat later at home. Despite having to compromise on her diet at times, this was her favorite time of the week. 

The tiny garden her brother and his girlfriend had was nice, even this time of the year, when the air got chillier and chillier every day. Her mom was seated in a porch chair, a thick shawl covering her shoulders.

“What’s new with you? Anything special at work?” Asked their mom. 

“We have a new doctor at the clinic,” revealed W.D.

“Really?”

”He’s a pediatrician,” continued Anne.

”And also the son of one of the biggest assholes this country has ever seen,” sighed her brother.

”W.D., language!”

”Sorry, Mama.”

”Is he a good man, a good doctor?”

”He is.”

”Then it shouldn’t matter who his father is.”

“I don’t think he’ll last three months, much less longer than that. He’ll be running back to his own world by Christmas.”

W.D’s comment made Anne roll her eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by her brother. “You have something to share with the class, Miss Wheeler?” He demanded.

”He’s doing well. Helped me with that labor this week. I think he’ll last longer than you think.”

”We could bet on it.”

”What are you suggesting?”

”If he resigns before Christmas, you cook for the holidays. For all of us.”

Arching a brow, Anne crossed her arms. “And I I win?”

”If he’s still here at that point, I’ll cook.” This elicited a snicker from Anne, her mama and Justine. 

“That’ll be one lousy Christmas,” joked Justine. “That’s not a decent prize for her, W.D! We’d end up having to get Chinese takeout or pizza!”

This was why she liked Justine. She didn’t take any of her big brother’s crap. Had to be because she was a teacher and had to deal with kids all day long.   
  
“Fine. If you win, I’ll cover your coffee at work for the next six months.”

”A year.”

”That’s an exaggeration.”

”I guess you’re not all that confident after all,” she teased. 

“Ugh, okay. You win, sis. A year it is.”

”I look forward to it.” She grinned. It was good thing that she knew Phillip better than W.D. did, but it was a small miracle that she did truly have some faith in him. 

***

Phillip ended up buying takeout breakfast, no longer feeling like sitting at a nice restaurant with everyone else enjoying their food with someone else. _A group of friends. A spouse. Kids. Parents._

 _Was this how much he disgusted her?_ Anne had looked like a deer in the headlights after his invitation. It used to be so easy for him to get company, but he’d wiped most- nearly all- of the numbers of his so-called party friends from his phone. A clean slate, so to speak. Which now led him to realize that he had no friends to speak of, perhaps had never had, at least not since high school. Now, at 31 years old, he was finally seeing his life for the pathetic existence it was. He still remained hopeful he could make friends now that he was sober, even if it wasn’t with Anne Wheeler. He liked Anne, and he could sense her attachment to the rest of their co-workers. It was probably only him she’d refuse to have breakfast with. 

Thinking about her was unhealthy, mainly because his interest in her was in serious danger of veering past friendship. Somehow he was glad she was still so wary of him, even after the past week when things between them had been better than before. She didn’t want to be his friend, and certainly nothing more than that, so it should be easy to let these feelings come and pass with no action on his part. He could do it, couldn’t he? Stay polite and professional and not speak to her unless he had to. Yet he was glad she knew of his problem, as it meant he didn’t have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t when he was around her. Having to pretend he didn’t want anything from her would be a piece of cake compared to that. 

The weirdest thing about all this was that he knew they _could_ get along, she _could_ like him if she allowed herself to. Nevertheless, who was he to tell her he deserved a chance? At least if they never became close, she’d never become one of those people he’d hurt if- or when, if statistics were to be relied on- he relapsed. For now he was feeling good about his chances, but things could change, and even people who had been sober for years still broke eventually, because something drastic they hadn’t seen coming took place. It was better to not let anyone get too close to him, losing his job would and disappointing his patients would be enough to deal with. He didn't need the extra burden that came with having someone care about him. 


	3. Chapter 3

Anne was half asleep as she took the subway to work on a Tuesday morning in early October. After _the dream,_ she’d stayed awake on purpose, scared of having it happen again. She should probably be more grateful for the nightmares of her dad no longer bothering her, but this was bad, too. 

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw _him._ In her apartment, her kitchen, her _bedroom._ Looking at her the way he usually did at work, as if he was wondering what she was thinking and couldn’t wait to find out. And at the same time he seemed to _know,_ which was even scarier.   
  
She hadn’t sworn off men or anything like that, but with her line of work and the fact that she liked sitting at home with her art, and with her family more than touring bars or checking out Tinder, there hadn’t been much action recently. 

His kiss in her dreams was always soft, but demanding too, because he wanted everything from her. She always woke up sweaty and shaking. The whole thing was just plain _wrong._ Phillip was someone she worked with five days a week, and for the last two week she’d been avoiding even looking at him, terrified he could tell exactly what was on her mind. It was awkward, so damned awkward. At least he was sort of keeping his distance after she’d refused his invitation to have breakfast. As much as she hated to admit it, she regretted saying no and had mentally kicked herself for it for days afterward.

Ever since her school days, she’d learned what she had to be to be accepted. The good girl. The sensible one. It had been even tougher for her brother. She’d learned to keep people away, especially the ones who could _really_ hurt her. Whatever it was that Phillip wanted from her, she had to fight it. This was her life, and she was happy with what she had. Phillip would leave her in ruins. 

Focused on the music coming out of her earbuds, she jumped when someone patted her arm. As she pivoted to see who it was, her first thought was that she had to be dreaming again. He could not be standing there, way too close for comfort in the crowded subway car, his hair totally out of place, smelling of some expensive aftershave. With his bed head, he looked good enough to eat.

”Good morning,” he started, flashing her a shy grin. _Ugh, she should hate him for this._

”Hey. Never expected to see you here,” she replied. 

“I left my car to be serviced. Is this the good company you mentioned?” He asked, motioning to their surroundings. 

“At least you’re never alone here.”

”I think I still prefer my car,” he mused. “Good company’s never a bad thing, though.” He was flirting with her again, wasn’t he?

”You got much of it? Company, I mean?” He hadn’t mentioned dating anyone, but anything was possible. Somehow a part of her desperately hoped that he wasn’t single. 

Her sharp question seemed to take him by surprise. “Not really, not anymore at least,” he answered quietly, his eyes on her shoes. As if he was embarrassed. Of what, though? 

“But to be honest, I didn’t keep particularly good company. And I wasn’t really good company myself, either.” 

She found herself nodding, as if she understood, but she didn’t. For someone who looked the way he did and was as good of a man as he was, he sure seemed to think very little of himself. Remembering the photos of him she’d found by googling, she wondered if all this had been bubbling underneath the surface even then. If she was an expert in anything at all, it was unpleasant feelings you’d rather not acknowledge. 

“Do you have a busy day coming up?” She asked, deciding to change the subject. 

Running his fingers through his hair, he looked relieved that she’d dropped the subject. 

“Yeah, I think I’ve got around twenty patients. How about you?”

”Substance abuse clinic again today.” She still loved her job, even the tough parts of it, but the more she got to know Phillip, the more treating the addicts took out of her. Choosing to do it had always been about a personal calling, she knew that, but their stories had never come this close to getting to her. She truly believed he'd last much longer than W.D. guessed, but _would she_? That was the real million-dollar question.

***

The weekend was sunny and pretty warm despite the cold wind, which meant that she’d agreed to join her family for a picnic in Central Park. 

”This could be our last picnic of the year,” sighed her mom.

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t eat this inside,” whined W.D., wrapping an arm around Jasmine to probably steal her warmth.

“You’re such a baby,” snickered Anne. 

As they set up the food on a picnic table, she had to admit her brother sort of had a point. It was freaking freezing in Central Park, nothing like the time over a month ago when she’d… Well, definitely _not_ drooled all over Phillip. Shaking her head, she pushed him out of her mind. This was family time, which was the least suitable time to be thinking about men who were bad for her. 

The lunch they had was delicious, this time her mom had even gone through the effort to make enough vegetarian options for Anne. Thinking about the mushroom ravioli she’d had her eye on since leaving her mom’s place that morning, she barely noticed the dog approaching their table.

“Oh, shit!” She exclaimed, covering her mouth. 

“Language, Anne!” Reminded her mom, but went quiet just as she had at the sight of the dog. It was a gorgeous black-and-white creature. _A border collie,_ that was what it was.

“Where did you come from?” She asked softly, letting him sniff her hand. The dog wagged his tail at her. 

“What a handsome boy you are,” exclaimed Jasmine, coming to scratch the dog behind his ears.

Anne had always liked dogs, but had never had one. She still knew this one couldn’t possibly be a stray. Someone had to be missing him. 

“He’s got a collar,” murmured her future sister-in-law.

“Is there a name or a number?”

“Lewis! There you are, begging for food from strangers, you greedy little- _oh.”_

***

Somehow Ben’s dog had found his way to Anne’s group. The other young woman with Lewis was black, her hair wound in small braids. They both stared up at him, Anne’s eyes wide with surprise. Phillip suddenly felt embarrassed. Despite knowing she wanted nothing to do with him outside of work and that approaching her in the subway had probably been a bad idea, too, he always found himself hoping he’d run into her when he was out in the park. This time she wasn't alone, but neither was he.

“Uh, hi,” he greeted, smiling down at both her and her friend.

“Hi, Phillip,” replied Anne. “When did you get a dog?” She asked.

“He’s not mine, he’s my sp-“ stopping himself just in time before slipping up, he continued “my friend Ben’s. He, his husband and their kids went out of town for the week and I offered to take Lewis in.”

The young woman with Anne kept looking between them, obviously yearning for an explanation. Since she didn’t seem to be in a hurry to give one, Phillip stepped up to the woman and held out his hand. 

“Phillip Carlyle. I work with Anne,” he introduced himself. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jasmine Barry, I’m with W.D. So I guess you work with my fiancé, too. You’re the new doctor, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am,” he admitted, wondering what Anne and her brother had told their family about him. “Great to meet you, Jasmine.”

Now he also spotted W.D. and an older woman, who had to be their mother. 

“What’s up, Phillip?” Greeted W.D., clapping his shoulder. 

“Same old, same old. Sorry my dog crashed your picnic. Well, my friend’s dog, but for all purposes he’s my charge right now.”

“Such a beautiful dog!” Exclaimed the older woman, bending at the waist to scratch Lewis’s head. “So, you are the new doctor at the clinic, then?” She asked, her eyes now boring into him, judging if he was worthy of being around her children. Both the sharpness as well as the kindness in her gaze were strongly reminiscent of her daughter. She was a tall woman, too. 

“Yeah, that would be me. Phillip Carlyle,” he replied for the second time that day with a laugh. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wheeler.”

She grinned back at him, the expression lovely and open. “Call me Claire.”

“Then I insist you call me Phillip, ma’am.”

“I will take you up on that. So, Phillip, where are you and your adorable friend headed? We’ve got plenty of food, there’s enough for you too.”

He was tempted, and he could tell the dog was too, but Anne was studiously _not_ looking at him, her arms crossed over her chest, deflating the hope that had spring up in him. “I… I’d love to, Mrs. Wheeler-Claire-, but I couldn’t impose on your family meal, and I really should be taking Lewis home.”

Mrs. Wheeler seemed disappointed, but nodded. “Alright. Well, at least take some food with you. I couldn’t let you leave hungry.”

Before he could object, she had equipped him with three plastic containers full of food. He frowned, suddenly ashamed.

“Are you sure you’re not giving me too much?”

“Don’t be silly, you’re a young man and I know how much people like you eat,” she countered. “Take it all and eat it.”

“Thank you so much.”

Putting the leash back on a reluctant Lewis, who was still more interested in having his belly scratched by Anne, he nodded at her and took his leave. 

***

As Anne watched his retreating back, the wall in her mind that she’d kept such good care of, cracked. Years ago she’d sworn that she wouldn’t let her father or how he died hurt her, that she’d never even think about him again.

Meeting Phillip had changed all that. _Why did he have to be so nice, kind, smart and funny and have the body of an underwear model or a Marvel superhero?_ She didn’t always act like herself around him, her coldness leaving her ashamed of herself. 

“It’s a shame he didn’t stay,” murmured her mother as they ate, Anne resenting the hint in her tone.

Her mom was _good,_ but definitely not _that_ good. “Such a nice young man.” She bit into her lip, not about to break her mom’s fantasy or betray Phillip’s trust. There was no reason for her family to know about his addiction. It would only ruin their lunch, and remind them all of the one thing they barely mentioned. The one person who had once been part of the family, too. Every time Phillip made her heart skip a beat, she had to push the reminders of her father out of her mind. 

She tried to be professional, think about him as a colleague, or even as an addict, somehow comparable to her patients. It was a mistake and unfair to both herself and him. He wasn’t a patient, she didn’t desire her patients, and although he was technically her colleague, there was more. Perfect men didn’t exist, and she’d stopped looking for one a long time ago. An alcoholic was far from perfect, but her hormones hadn’t gotten that memo. That made him trouble, plain and simple. 

“He looks at you the way W.D. looks at me,” whispered Jasmine into Anne’s ear. 

She arched a brow. “Okay, first of all, I don’t even want to know what you mean by _that_ , and second of all, no, he doesn’t.”

“Okay, no details, but he’s into you.”

“Even if he is, it’s not mutual,” she denied. 

“Whatever you say. Is he a total douchebag or something? He didn’t seem like one, but I know first impressions don’t usually tell enough about a person.”

She shook her head, sighing. She couldn’t badmouth someone who didn’t deserve it. There were reasons to stay away from him, but that didn’t make him into a monster. “No, he’s not. He’s just not my type.”

Jasmine’s eye roll was creepily identical to W.D’s. Holding up a finger, she wagged it in front of Jasmine's face. “Don’t you dare finish that thought.”

“Okay, okay. You won’t hear anything more from me. But-“

“But what?”

“I fully reserve the right to gloat when you bring that Phillip guy over as your boyfriend one day.”

An awkward laugh escaped Anne’s mouth. “You’re going to be waiting for a very long time.”

“I’ve got time.”

Some tiny, insecure part of her couldn’t even believe he was into her, especially for anything more than sex. It was the part of her who’d been raised by a single mom and had to struggle to get anywhere. Expectations weren’t exactly high when you were black and poor, after all.

The 26-year-old version of her thought more highly of herself. She had a job she loved, a supportive family, enough friends to keep her company. She made ends meet, didn’t have to go hungry. Her life was good and she didn’t _need_ a man. Especially one that scared her to death. Nevertheless, that wasn’t going to stop her from wanting. 

***

“You’re a lucky dog, Lewis,” Phillip explained to the border collie, ruffling his soft neck. “She’s a tough girl to please, but she likes _you._ Not sure if I’ll ever achieve that.”

Lewis didn’t have much to say in return, but he wagged his tail and licked his wrist, which he took as a show of sympathy. 

Just as they entered the building, Phillip’s phone rang. Reluctantly he dug it out of his pocket, sighing as he saw the name on the screen. _His mother._ This wasn’t the first time she’d called him this week, and it wouldn’t be the last. She always tried to contact him this time of the year, when her own mental state was at its worst. 

“I can’t do this, you know?” he confessed to Lewis, rejecting the call. “Of course you don’t know, you’re a dog… I can’t risk losing it over what she’s going to say.”

He directed the dog into the elevator, cursing as his phone rang again. This time he turned it off entirely. 

“I know you’re hungry, but I can’t feed you just yet. How about you go and take a nap, buddy?” He suggested, taking Lewis leash off. 

The dog shot him an annoyed glare, but curled up on his couch, where Phillip was not supposed to let him lounge. Relenting, he settled down beside the dog and turned the TV on. Even the baseball game he began watching couldn’t get his mind off Anne, or his mother. Both topics were bad for him, but at least one evoked positive emotions in him. 

It must be great to be part of such a nice family. It was often said that your family shaped the person you became when you grew up, and he could see the goodness of Anne’s mother in her. In her brother, too. That didn’t exactly give him the best prognosis, did it? His parents had never been suited to playing those parts, but they’d had kids because that was what had been expected of them. With his own history, he’d probably be a terrible father. Not that he was anywhere close to having a kid. Hell, the jury was still out on whether he could gain a woman’s interest in a long-term relationship anyway. Maybe he was better off burying those dreams- especially if they involved a tall, gorgeous and kind nurse practitioner- and consider adopting a dog. He had to admit that he felt a lot less lonely with Lewis for company. 

After grabbing a fork from his kitchen, he cracked open one of the containers Anne’s mom had given him and dropped back onto the couch. The pasta salad was mouth-wateringly good. He’d have to thank that woman for this meal, maybe send her flowers. 

***

The call came in at 9:34 AM that Monday morning. It was the cops.

_Bess Adams, aged 24. Found in a public bathroom. Could not be helped even by naloxone. Last seen by Anne only four days before._

She was supposed to see another patient in 10 minutes, but she was frozen in place, her head between her knees, trying to stay calm. One of her patients was gone. She’d tried so hard, and Bess was still dead. She’d had a place waiting for her in a rehab facility, but she’d never made it there. What had been going through her mind? Had she wanted one last night of _fun?_ Now she’d never have another one. More importantly, she’d never see her family again. They’d never see her.   
  


Anne had failed. And she’d keep failing with these people.   
  


***

“What is it?” Whispered her brother at lunch, an arm around her shoulder.

“Not now,” she insisted, which was her go-to answer every time she didn’t want to talk about something. Most of the time it really meant never.

Phillip dropped down into the seat across from her with another microwave meal. Chicken nuggets this time. His eyes darted to her face, but she turned away. She couldn’t face him, not today. Tomorrow she’d be stronger again. 

“Is there something wrong with your lunch?” He suddenly asked. Looking down, she realized she’d barely touched it. 

“Nope, but there’s a lot wrong with yours. Here, take it,” she said, shoving the container at him as she got up. 

“Anne, that’s not what I-“

”Then don’t ask stupid questions.”

She strode out of the room before he could follow. 

***

Phillip had dropped off Lewis at Ben’s house on Sunday evening, having received 25 calls from his mother by that time. 15 voicemails, and he hadn’t listened to a single one. After tossing and turning in his bed all night, he returned to work on Monday morning. 

The day didn’t get much better with Anne exploding at him at lunch. He ended up being distracted all day, the continued calls his mother kept making totally screwing up his focus even further. So much that he ended up forgetting to return leftover medications and supplies into the cool storage room in the basement. As his luck would have it, he only remembered that while taking a shower in the locker room. 

With his coat already on, he went back upstairs and gathered all the things he needed to return, seeing nobody. The place was empty. The storage was in the basement, too, and he was surprised to find it open. It was one of the things he’d first learned there. _Always remember to lock the storage room._ As he got closer, he found a trash can holding the door ajar. Removing it, he slipped into the room. 

The woman he did his best to avoid was standing at the shelves, cursing under her breath as she stared at the supplies. 

“Hey,” he said.

Her head flipped to him. “Oh, hi. Whatever you do, please don’t- _no, you didn’t!”_ She shouted in horror, staring at the closed door.

Cold dread took over him. _No. They could get out of there, right?”_

“Phillip, the door’s broken! We can’t get out!”

***

She pushed on the door to no avail, and eventually gave it a frustrated smack. “Damn all this to hell!” She cursed under her breath. Of all the people working at this clinic, she _had_ to get locked inside with _him. And today of all possible days._

“We’re really stuck here for the night, then?” He asked with a sigh. 

“Yeah, sure looks like it.”

“I’m really sorry, Anne. I didn’t know about the lock.”

“It’s not your fault, there was no way for you to know. Okay, there was, because Barnum was supposed to have it fixed _today_. Lettie said it needed his authorization.”

“He probably forgot," mused Phillip. 

“Tell me about it," she agreed with a sigh. A few heartbeats later she realized there might be something they could do to avoid being stuck there until morning. "Do you have your cell phone?” She asked.

“Yup, but we’re not going to get any use out of it.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s out of battery.”

“You didn’t charge it?”

“No.”

“I don’t know why I’m even asking this, but _why_?”

“Because my mother called to harass me, as she usually does during the week of my sister’s birthday and the anniversary of her death. I ignored her and let the battery run out.”

“She… She _what?”_

“It’s complicated,” he offered.

She shrugged. “It looks like we’ve got time for complicated stories right now.”

“So, I was fifteen when it happened... After Heather’s death, she clung to me at first… Would barely let me leave the house, in case something happened. But then she changed, I guess she reached another stage in her grief.”

“She blamed you?” _How could Phillip be blamed for a little girl’s cancer death?_

“She told me she wished it had been me who’d died. I was sent to a boarding school.”

“That’s… I can’t believe someone would do that to their child.”

“People deal with grief in different ways. Drinking ended up being my way, she’s more into handing out blame and mixing brandy with sedatives… Sorry… I shouldn’t go into the details," he trailed off, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she sighed softly. Phillip may have had an easier time in many ways than she and her family, but he still deserved better than what he got from his parents. _Or what he’d gotten from her, when his only crime had been to be nice to her._

Her first instincts were being proven right; she was growing more convinced by the minute that his life wasn’t a very happy one, probably hadn’t been for a very long time. 

“Okay, I won’t. But don’t you dare feel sorry for me.”

“I wasn’t feeling sorry for you,” she denied. Okay, so maybe she was. _A little._ But that wasn't a crime, either. It was weird, though. As a kid, she would've done anything to have had money and both of her parents in her life.

“Good. Alright, I’m done with opening up for the night. How about you tell me who or what ruined your day today?”

Her brows shot to her forehead. “Who said anything or anyone did?” Although she’d been pretty obvious, hadn’t she?

Phillip shrugged. “You bit my head off at lunch. Sorry if I read you wrong, wanted to offer you-“

“You’re right. I had a bad day, and I took it out on you.” Saying that felt like a burden had been lifted off his shoulders, even if the day had been the worst of her entire career, not just another run-of-the-mill not that good of a day.

It wasn’t so much anger than it was grief that she couldn’t deal with. “One of my patients OD’d and died. The police called me this morning.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“And since I think too much, I started wondering if I could’ve done more to help her. She had kids, you know? A little girl and a boy who’ll never see their mom again.”

“Hey… It’s not your fault, Anne. You’re not responsible for their lives,” he assured her softly, his voice so gentle that she felt her defenses cracking under his gaze. When his palm landed on her cheek, her pulse began to race even more. _Out of control._ That was what she was. _No._ She had to try to be strong. 

Tears slipped out of her eyes, and she watched concern take over Phillip’s handsome face. _He didn’t know why she was really crying._

“My dad was a heroin addict. He OD’d and died when I was ten.” There, the truth was out now. She’d wanted to avoid telling him or talking about her dad in general for so long. So long that nobody else at the clinic knew about it, except for W.D. of course. And now there was Phillip. 

Her words should’ve sent him backing down, but he stayed, his eyes still refusing to leave hers. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“That’s my deep, dark secret,” she murmured, trying to lighten the mood even as she wanted nothing more than to stop crying in front of him. 

***

He couldn’t stop thinking about Anne and her amazing family, and how much this man must’ve made them suffer before his death. They deserved so much better.

“It means a lot that you told me. I… I understand better now.”

She nodded. “I don’t like telling people about him. Don’t talk about him much either, not even with my mom or W.D.”

“It makes sense. He hurt you.” Probably enough to make any relationship between them totally impossible. Which meant that he really had to let go of these dreams of his. _She’d never trust him._

“Yeah, he did. He was a good man when he was clean. I wouldn’t exist if that wasn’t true.”

“Yeah, I believe you. Your mom’s pretty awesome. I want to thank her for the food, by the way.”

Smiling at him through her tears, she nodded. “I’ll give you her number when we get out of here and you’ve charged your phone.”

Her smile was the most precious gift he’d ever received, lighting up the entire storage room. It didn’t matter that he was exhausted and would now have to sleep on the cold, hard floor. This was the best night he’d had in… Years and years. He was sober and everything felt so genuine. Like something he wanted more for an indefinite length of time. 

He noticed her shivering as she wiped her face with the sleeves of her scrubs. “Are you cold? You can have this,” he promised, removing his sweater.

“No, I couldn’t-“

“In case you didn’t notice, you’re still in your scrubs. I’ve got a coat and everything.”

As he handed the sweater over to her, Anne’s fingers brushed against his, the skin soft, and cooler than his. There was no excuse to hold her hand, but he relished the touch as long as it lasted. 

***

Anne fought sleep for as long as she could, unwilling to lie down on the floor. Even with Phillip’s warm, incredibly soft, and probably stupidly expensive- blue sweater, she was still cold enough to shiver every once in a while. She’d never noticed how cold this room could be. He was huddled underneath his coat a few feet to her right, his eyes closed but based on his frustrated huffing, unable to sleep just as she was.

“Hear me out: no ulterior motives. But it’s cold here and we should get some sleep. We could share the coat,” he suggested.

Her first reaction was to yell _hell no_ and back away to the other end of the room. The idea was tempting, though. _He’d_ be warm for sure. The problem was that getting that close to him would be dumb. Something told her that she’d only find herself wanting more of him after that. Yet she nodded. _Stop playing with fire._

“Okay. As long as you’re serious about the no ulterior motives part.”

“I promise. No funny business.”

Weighing her options, she bit her lip before deciding to agree to his idea. 

Determined to keep as far away as possible from him, the task turned out to be pretty much impossible when he was barely two inches away, heat radiating from him. She’d never liked this stupid damp basement, but she felt safe now, with him there. As promised, he kept his hands to himself, his breath hitting the back of her neck as he tried to fall asleep. There was still one question stuck in the back of her mind... It wasn't the only one she wanted to ask him, but this felt like an appropriate time to voice it. 

***

Phillip was surprised when she suddenly spoke. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Fire away.”

“Why did you decide to get help, after so long? What was the last straw? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he seriously considered not doing it. He could tell her it was too personal, which was true. But what mattered more than that was that he’d recounted the events to another person only once, and this was _Anne._ His brilliant and gorgeous co-worker, who was making him yearn for a meaningful human connection, making him see how much he’d missed out on. She’d despise him if he told her, and he didn’t want to be one of her patients, who probably laid all their issues on her. Who sometimes died despite her best efforts. 

“I’m… I’m not sure if I should tell you,” he admitted.

“I’ve heard it all.”

“That’s exactly why. I’m not your patient.”

“No, you’re not. You’re... you’re my friend.”

Although it wasn’t what he wanted, even the offer of friendship meant a lot to him. It was a beginning, and it provided him with the courage he desperately needed to tell her. Even if she'd move to the other side of the room after hearing it. He hadn't told anyone outside his AA group and a therapist. 

“I was taking a sick day… Well, once again… So I wasn’t on duty, strictly speaking. But I ran out of drinks, so I left my apartment, and went to the liquor store. There was a fight outside, and when I got there, a woman had been stabbed in the abdomen. I tried to help her, subdue the bleeding, but… My hands shook so badly, Anne,” he explained, shaking his head. “I couldn’t do anything. There was another doctor, who was sober and not hungover, and she took over. It didn’t help. That woman died before the ambulance got there.”

“That’s horrible, but it wasn’t your fault. We can’t always help everyone, like I should’ve damned well learned already.”

”I thought you’d hate me.”

”No. You’ve made mistakes and now you’re trying to make amends for them. I respect that. Not everybody ever gets there."

"I know." _How far would he get, either?_

When he woke up, he had no idea what time it was, or how long he'd slept for, as there were no windows to let in possible sunlight. What he did know was that he was still lying on his side and there was a cloud of curly hair all over his face, her cheek pressed up against his chest. Actually, more like her entire body pressed up against him. _He had to be dreaming._ When she still didn't disappear after he'd pinched himself as well as taken a few deep breaths, it began to sink in. _This was really happening._ His heart raced, ideas of wrapping an arm around her filling his head. _But she didn't want this, did she?_ And he was a creep for enjoying it. Slowly he moved to a sitting position, trying not to disturb her. 

He padded over to the door, listening for footsteps or other noises. There was nothing, so he turned back to glance at Anne's sleeping form. It wouldn't have been nearly as great to get locked in a storage room if she hadn't been there. It wouldn't happen again, but he'd remember it. He'd remember what she felt like close to him, what she looked like as she slept. 

A pair of footsteps and voices descended into the basement, making Anne jump up suddenly, still clearly groggy. 

_"This is the door! We really need it open and functioning within two hours."_

_"I'll do my best."_

"Sounds like Lettie and the cavalry are here," he joked as she came up to stand beside him.

"Lettie, we're in here! We've been here all night!" She yelled, banging on the door.

_"Anne, is that you?"_

"Yeah, it's me. I'm in here with Phillip."

"Hold on, we'll get you out. Jesus, you two must be starving!"

It took another fifteen minutes to open the door. Although Lettie had sounded concerned, she still gave them a meaningful look when they finally stood face-to-face. His face already reddening, he hoped he wouldn't have an answer any uncomfortable questions about this incident. 

"I'll go and grab us some breakfast," he said quickly, slipping out into the hallway. 

***

That evening he made it back to his regular AA meeting. The turnout that night was good, with a dozen of the people he'd been meeting with for months now. The people who knew more about him than most of his own blood relatives. People who often talked about their own families and friends and how they wanted to stay sober for them, not only for themselves. He'd never been able to share anything like that, which made him feel like an outsider.

When it was Phillip’s turn to speak, he hesitated. Yes, Anne did matter when it came to his recovery, but everything pertaining to her felt too private to share, even with this bunch of people that had been nothing but understanding towards him.

“I haven’t really had the urge to drink recently. I think it’s mostly due to my new job. I’m liking it a lot, and it keeps me so busy during the day that I don’t have much time to think about drinking. And… There’s someone. A woman, who I’d like to get to know better,” he confessed.

Their group leader, Trina, raised her brows as she digested his words. “Are we talking about as a friend, or more than that?” She asked.

“More, probably. I know I’m not far along enough in my recovery for a meaningful relationship, but even if I was, I don’t think this woman would date me.” There. He’d said it aloud, which was a big step in accepting it. 

“Why’s that?” Asked Jose, who he’d seen at the meetings for about as long as he’d attended them. 

“Her- uh, she lost someone close to her to drugs. And now she works with addicts. Drug addicts, mostly. So she wouldn’t get involved with one.”

Trina nodded sympathetically. “So you could perhaps consider her to be a safe person to develop feelings for, since she is unattainable?”

“I guess you could say that.” _Was that the reason behind his feelings? Could it be that there was nothing real there after all?_ It should've been a relief, but it felt more like a bitter disappointment. 

“You could still approach the matter with her once you’ve been sober for over a year,” suggested Tasha with a shrug. She'd talked to the group about her new boyfriend, who had recently suggested she move in with him, her good luck explaining her optimism. 

“I could, but I don’t… I guess I just think it’d be stupid.” Not to mention make things awkward at work. He was alone in whatever it was that he felt for Anne. 

“It’s important for all of us to remember that we can find love and form long-term relationships despite our addiction, and the mistakes we’ve made don’t make us unlovable for the rest of our lives,” comforted Trina. “It’s never a bad thing to care about someone, Phillip. If you have feelings for this woman, acknowledge them, at least in your own head. You’re not committing a crime by feeling things, even if you're still in the early days of your recovery.”

He nodded, but at the end of the day he was pretty convinced he wouldn’t even know what to do with a good woman if he had a chance with one. He wouldn’t know how to be a boyfriend. There had been no loving long-term relationships to look up to in his family. After all those years with his family, he was a mess even without the alcoholism. His father was also blatantly racist and would never accept Anne... Not that Phillip had any interest or need for that man’s permission, but his father was capable of making life difficult for her with the money and power he had. He could go after her family. Thinking of them made guilt gnaw at his heart, even though nothing had happened between him and Anne. Those people deserved better than to be bullied by his father. 

Ben and his husband Garth had been together for fifteen years, and if the way Ben spoke about Garth was any indication, they were still very much in love, living together happily with three kids and a border collie. That kind of love had to be a gift, whether it lasted for 15, 30 or 50 years. He envied people who were given that gift, because his own future was so murky. 

***

On Friday afternoon Phillip finally took a short break from seeing patients and decided to stretch his legs by going up to see Lettie. He tried not to look for Anne on his way there, but as usual, he failed miserably. 

"Hey, how are things?" He asked, leaning on the empty reception counter. Lettie sat behind it, both her and W.D.'s eyes on her computer screen.

"We're figuring out where to donate our blind date money this time around," she revealed.

"Blind date money? What am I missing here?" 

W.D faced him, a smug smile on his face. "Oh, you've got no idea what you're getting into, and it's amazing."

Lettie swatted his arm. "Hey, don't scare him off! You would've never found Jasmine without me."

"Okay, okay. Sorry, I was just messing with you. Phillip, twice a year Lettie sets up a blind date pool. You give five or ten bucks to join, and we donate it all to charity."

"Are you participating?" Asked Lettie, her eyes full of hope.

 _Woah._ A blind date? That was an awful idea, not only because he was recovering and not supposed to date anyone right now, but also because there was one particular woman occupying his thoughts.

He must’ve been frowning, because Lettie was now pouting at him. “Don’t give me that look, Phillip! It’ll be fun, I promise. I’m a great matchmaker, I’m the one who matched W.D. with Jasmine, after all. She’s Sherry’s cousin.” 

Nodding, Phillip tried to figure out an excuse. Sherry was one of their nurses. He sighed. “Look, can’t I just give you the money?”

“No, unless you’re taken. In that case it’s allowed. But you’re single, aren’t you?”

“Ummm… Yes,” he admitted. 

“Why not do it? Like I said, I’m really good at this, you’ll have fun, I promise. I’ve already got the perfect girl for you.”

He blinked, almost afraid to find out who Lettie was matching him with. Despite having no desire whatsoever to meet with a woman who wasn’t Anne Wheeler, he guessed he could force himself to go through it. They’d have a friendly dinner and go their separate ways, and he'd be able to postpone telling Lettie the truth. 

“Fine. Okay, I’ll do it.”

The receptionist beamed at him. “You won’t regret it!”

Unsure if that would turn out to be the case, he looked to W.D. for help, but the other man only shrugged. "I have no idea what she's planning," he claimed. 

Walking back to his office, he swore to talk to Lettie after this whole blind date thing and tell her the whole truth. He couldn't keep living like this.


	4. Chapter 4

At first Anne thought she was just slow and missing something due to an acute need for another cup of coffee in the morning, but after double and triple checking the inventory, she had to admit something was up. It could be an accident, maybe the newest nurse had made an honest mistake, maybe Phillip still needed help with the registry...

Deliberately dispassionate, she wrote down all the missing drugs and the amounts and left the storage room.

“Uh-oh. What is it?” Asked Lettie, eyeing her as she stopped at the reception desk.

“Drugs are going missing from the storage room. I think we need to make sure this is an isolated accident.”

“Drugs? What kind of drugs are we talking about?”

Exhaling, she rubbed at her forehead. “The kind that you can abuse.”

“Crap. Are you going to talk to Barnum?”

“I don’t want to make a big deal out of something that’s probably not deliberate.”

“You’re sure they’re not being stolen?”

“I don’t want to think that.”

“You don’t look too confident.”

“I’ll talk to him if we decide it’s not an accident.”

Believing one of her co-workers was a thief- or had a drug problem- was hard, and the kind of cynicism Anne didn't want to be a part of, but she had a bad gut feeling about this. Briefly her mind even settled on Phillip, but that didn't make any sense unless she chose to believe he truly was the liar she was afraid. He hadn't mentioned ever having a drug problem, and she didn't think he needed money, despite apparently not talking to his family. No. _Regardless of what and who he was, Phillip was not stealing drugs from the clinic._ She was going to refuse to believe that until there was evidence. Yet the question refused to leave her alone: if this wasn't an accident, who was taking them and why?

"I'll keep an eye on this," Lettie assured her. "Maybe check the inventory every day instead of three times a week?"

Anne nodded. "Yeah, that should help. Thanks, Lettie."

"We'll sort this out," promised her friend.

Squeezing Lettie's hand before she left to see her first patient of the day, Anne sure hoped they would, and soon. And that the man she liked would be fully exonerated. The memory of opening up to him in the storage room now caused her stomach to sink a little. _Could she really have been that stupid, after all these years of priding herself on being careful about who to put her faith in? God, she had beside him, even wrapped herself around him like... No, she wasn't going to let this get to her now._ If it turned out to be true, she wasn't sure how she'd be able to deal with it, but somehow she would, if it was needed. 

***

Stepping out of her office at lunchtime, Anne was nearly run over by a little girl- maybe around five or six years old- running down the entire length of the hallway.

“Whoa,” she gasped, moving aside just in time to avoid the collision.

“Sorry!” Yelled the little girl.

“Annabelle, come on! You’re not done here yet,” called out Phillip, peeking out of his office.

Anne chuckled to herself. A runway patient.

“I still hate needles, I’m not doing it!” Shouted Annabelle, turning around to look at Phillip, pulling on her black braids. Arching a brow, Anne faced Phillip as he followed the girl, yelling back. “It’s just a pen, come and have a look!”

“It’s a needle!”

“Do you need help?” She asked, amused.

“Annabelle, get back in here! Doctor Phillip’s got other patients too!” Yelled a female voice from within Phillip’s office. Must’ve been the mother.

“I can handle my favorite patient,” he replied, winking at Anne, “But if you could get me a long-acting insuline pen, I’d appreciate it,” he finished before taking up on a run after the girl.

When she returned from the basement with the pen, she found that Annabelle had managed to evade Phillip for this entire time, but just as she reached the lobby, he scooped up the laughing girl and carried her in the direction of his office. _This man was not stealing their drugs._ That was what her gut kept telling her, but she silenced it. He was an addicts, and addicts lied and pretended to hide their problems until they could no longer do that. 

“He says I’m his favorite patient,” whispered the little girl to Anne conspiratorially, her arms now around Phillip’s neck as he marched down the hallway.

“Wow, really? Then you must be a very special-“

“Oh no, Annabelle! You told her? It was supposed to be our secret,” he pouted, before tickling the girl. She let out an excited shriek and tried to escape once again, still giggling, but he stopped her.

“Anne, can you please come in and show Annabelle and her mother how to operate the new pen?” He asked.

“Sure.” Grinning at Annabelle, she followed them into the office, closing the door in her wake. she didn’t mind doing this, but her presence was not strictly needed. He wanted her there. It should’ve bothered and annoyed her, but the truth was that she could’ve opened her mouth and told him she had something else to do if she’d wanted to. Yet she was working alongside him, his upbeat banter with the little girl improving her own spirits, too.

“You should book an appointment with one of our nurses for next month,” he advised the mother as they finished.

“I want her!” Insisted Annabelle, her adorable gap-toothed grin reaching Anne’s heart.

“Anne is a fine choice,” agreed Phillip.

”I’ll make sure to book her, then,” laughed Annabelle’s mother. “Time to go, sweetie, come on. Say bye!”

”Bye!” Shouted Annabelle, waving at them as she followed her mom out the door. 

Although she was on her way out of his office, she suddenly remembered something and stopped. Taking out a stack of post-it’s, she wrote down a number and an address.

“You asked for my mom’s phone number and address?”

“Yeah, I did. I’d love to call her and thank her properly.”

“Here,” she said, offering him the post-it with her mother’s contact information. She was a little apprehensive to hand it over, but not because of Phillip himself. Her mom would definitely try to pry if she had sensed anything at all between them. Hopefully she hadn’t, but her mama always managed to take her by surprise with the things she could deduce from basically nonexistent evidence.

“Thank you.”

***

The call was long overdue, but Anne had only given him her mother's phone number the day before, and the flowers he'd ordered for her would be delivered later that night.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mrs. Wheeler?”

“Yes, it is. Is this the new doctor who works with my kids?”

Phillip chuckled. “Yes, it is. Hello, Mrs-“

“Claire,” she interrupted.

“Claire,” he corrected himself. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you, I just wanted to thank you for feeding me. I also took the liberty of sending you a little something, it should be there later tonight.”

“Of course I don’t mind! You shouldn’t have gotten me anything, though. But you’re very welcome. Did Anne give you my number?”

“Yeah, she did. Your address, too.”

Anne’s mother released a huff that he could’ve taken for excitement.

“Is there something going on with you and my daughter, by any chance? I know I'm being nosy, but Anne never tells me anything.”

Thanking his lucky stars that he was home alone, he squeezed his eyes shut. So he hadn’t thought Anne’s mom would interrogate him about her.

“No,” he denied with absolute confidence, wondering if he should say he was sorry, but that would’ve revealed too much.

“Hmmmm... Alright. Not sure if I’m buying what you’re selling here, but it was worth a try, because my Anne is a tough cookie. She hasn’t brought a boy home in years.”

Yeah, he hadn’t prepared to discuss Anne’s love life with her mother, either.

“I’m sure she has plenty of options if she ever goes looking, ma’am.” Most of those options would _not_ involve a recovering alcoholic with virtually no friends or family worth getting to know to, and Claire Wheeler would certainly be happy to hear that, were she aware of what he really was. Guilt gnawed at his guts. This woman deserved to know the truth, because she'd stop suggesting things like this if she knew.

“I think it takes a special kind of man for my daughter to take an interest in him."

"I don't doubt that for a second."

“Well, I’m sorry about this interrogation. I’m surprised Anne didn’t warn you, though.”

“I’m sure she didn’t think you’d have much interest in me,” he replied.

"Mmm-hmm,” muttered Claire, leaving him wondering what she meant. “I' look forward to seeing you again soon, I always bring cookies to the clinic a week or so before Christmas."

"Wow, that sounds great. See you then, I hope!”

“Yes, see you then, Phillip.”

***

It was the night before Halloween and time for Anne’s blind date. As usual, she went home after work to fix her make up and change into something nicer. The restaurant Lettie had chosen was actually familiar to her; it was a vegan restaurant that W.D. usually took her to for her birthday.

The place was a little more expensive than the restaurants she usually ate at, and she had to wonder what kind of a guy would enjoy a vegan place. W.D. never stopped grumbling about the food when they were there, but he was never serious about it and mostly did it to annoy her.

The dress she picked out was new, one that Jasmine had insisted she buy to use as her little black dress. The stretchy black fabric hugged her figure and yet managed to be comfortable for her to move and bend in without risking showing more than she wanted to, especially to some guy she was meeting for the first time. The dates Lettie had set up for her had never led to anything before, and she had no intention of changing that record this time. She wasn’t actively looking for a boyfriend, not to mention that a certain pediatrician still took over her thoughts every night she lay in bed at night.

As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, she thought she looked pretty damned good. Elegant. She wasn’t dressed for the guy she’d be seeing soon, but it felt great to look good. If her ridiculous mind wished Phillip Carlyle could see her like this, it was a whole another can of worms.

***

Putting on one of his old suits felt flat-out weird. He hadn’t worn them often since stepping out of the party-and-booze world, usually opting for a neat sweater or a button-down shirt with jeans or slacks underneath his white doctor’s coat. The expensive suit felt like a blast from the past, like it belonged to another person. A person he didn’t want to be anymore. Well, it didn’t matter that he was uncomfortable, did it? Whoever he was going to meet didn’t- and wouldn’t- know him.

His leg jumping nervously, he waited. This had been one of his worst ideas all year, possibly the worst. He should’ve told Lettie the truth and just made the damn donation without going on a date at all. No matter what, he wasn’t about to lead an innocent woman on.

While wallowing in self pity, he was almost too busy to notice the menu was all vegan. _Almost._ It all sounded so tasty and his stomach was rumbling in anticipation of a nice meal.

When she stepped into the restaurant, he knew exactly what was going on. _Lettie_. Oh God. As in ‘oh-God-the-receptionist-is-setting-me-up-with-a-woman-who-doesn’t-like-me’ as well as ‘oh-God-she’s-so-hot-I-can’t-stand-it’. Anne wasn’t dressed to seduce, not with that knee-length black turtleneck dress and understated makeup, but it made him forget even his own name. She was always beautiful, even in her work scrubs or the jeans and hoodies she wore on her way to work and home. _This_ was different, though. He was pretty sure more than half of the restaurant was currently checking her out. Whoever she'd thought she was meeting for dinner was one lucky man.

Recovering sufficiently, he waved to catch her attention. For a fraction of a second he thought he saw what he wanted to see in her eyes: interest and pleasure, but then the light in them dimmed and her face fell. He really should’ve picked up on the hints earlier, what with this being a vegan restaurant. It was probably Anne’s favorite. She walked over to his table reluctantly, standing beside his chair without sitting down.

“Hi,” he started. “You may not believe me, but I didn’t know it’d be you here tonight.”

“Ditto,” she sighed.

“Look, I’ll explain everything to Lettie tomorrow. I’m sorry I didn’t do it before we ended up here.”

“She wouldn’t judge you.”

Phillip nodded. “I believe you. Anyway, this is probably your favorite restaurant, isn’t it?”

“One of them, yeah," she admitted.

“Right. Enjoy your evening, Anne,” he finished gently, setting a couple of bills on the table before getting up. It was only right to make himself scarce under these circumstances.

***

He was walking away from her before she had time to react. Her eyes scanned the bills he’d left behind, the sight pissing her off in the worst way.

”Phillip! Wait!” She yelled, not particularly caring if she had to chase him down to return the cash. Luckily he turned around, allowing her to catch up.

“What is it?”

“ _This,”_ Anne hissed, shoving the money back at him.

He shot her a look of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“A hundred dollars, Phillip! Unless you came here a lot earlier, you only had water. _This_ is disrespectful. Did you even look at the prices on the menu?”

“I didn’t have time, but hey, all the food sounded delicious. It’s not a big deal," he argued.

“Of course it is! We’d both eat a three-course meal here with this. You either take this back or stay and eat.”

Even Anne herself was surprised by her demand. She’d just invited him to stay. On what was supposed to be their blind date. _He’d take the money back and leave, right?_

He blinked at her, surprised by her ultimatum. Just when she opened her mouth to do damage control, he walked behind her to pull her chair out for her. A nice touch. Then he strode back to his own seat and sat down.

“Alright. If you’re okay with it, let’s eat. Can you recommend anything?” He asked, picking up the menu. To a random passerby he would’ve appeared confident, but Anne noticed the slight shaking of his hands. He was nervous, and it was sweet. She also hadn’t missed on his reaction at seeing her and how it had been like straight from her fantasies, except somehow even better.

“Let me see,” she murmured, scanning the menu to check if they’d changed it since she’d last been there.

“How about this zucchini lasagna?”

“That should be good. But I’d stay away from the chocolate cake here, most vegan chocolate has a weird aftertaste,” she noted, trying not to imagine sharing a piece of tasty chocolate cake with him. Preferably with him licking it off of her.

“So I should go for the fruit tartlet then?”

Even as she nodded, her stomach let out a hungry gurgle. Sneaking a glance at Phillip over her menu, she was relieved to notice he was at least pretending he hadn’t heard it. 

“That’s what I’d do,” she advised, setting the sheet of cardboard on the table. 

A waiter arrived to take their orders, giving her a chance to watch Phillip when he wasn’t paying her attention. He had put on more hair gel tonight than he usually did for work, and although it made her want to wash his hair, it didn’t make him any less gorgeous. The suit he was wearing probably cost more than what she earned in a month, and a man dressed like this should have been completely out of place in her world. Yet he didn’t seem to feel at home in the outfit either. This- aside from the discomfort that could’ve been wishful thinking on her part- looked like the man she’d seen in the photos her google search had come up with. 

***

“Who did you imagine you were about to meet?” She asked, her eyes narrowing.

Phillip released an awkward cough, taking a sip of his water. “Someone who doesn’t know anything about me,” he settled on. Someone who didn’t make him look forward to his work every day. “Someone who I wouldn’t have told about my issues.”

Anne nodded. “Lettie does usually pick good people.”

”Who did you think you were seeing?” He asked in return. 

She regarded him for a moment, saying nothing. “I was expecting something less complicated.”

”That’s fair. I still think I’m lucky, though.”

”How come?”

”I’m having dinner with the most stunning woman in this restaurant.”

”That’s cheesy,” she insisted, but the grin playing on her lips revealed that she wasn’t entirely immune to his awkward flirting. 

”But true.” 

“Well, thank you. I think I like you better in jeans and a white coat,” she replied, growing very interested in her gazpacho.

That was the best compliment he had ever received. 

“I haven’t worn this in months, so I don’t blame you. I’m eight months sober today, actually,” he said, cutting another piece of his lasagna. This was the first time he had barely realized he was about to rack up another month of sobriety, which was probably a positive sign. 

“Wow, that’s a great achievement,” she smiled. He wondered if she was just humoring him and if her father had ever stayed sober that long.

“You’ve got to start somewhere,” he shrugged. Taking pride in his sobriety was alright, but he was careful not to trust himself too much.

“Where do you see yourself going? Like, in a few years or so?” She asked, taking him by surprise. Meeting her eyes, he wondered how to answer without telling her that he didn’t really know.

“I- it’s a little embarrassing, but I honestly haven’t thought about it much. I take one day or one week at a time,” he confessed.

“Right, that makes sense, too.”

“What about you? Where are you going?”

“Becoming a nurse is all I’ve wanted for a very long time, and now I’m there.”

“How did you decide to become a nurse?”

“My mom’s one, too.”

He grinned at her. “I shouldn’t probably guessed that. She must’ve been a good role model while growing up.”

“She was,” she nodded, returning his smile.

“You never wanted to be a doctor like your brother?” 

“I thought about it, but I don’t think it’s my thing. I like working with people, and doctors don’t get to do the same work we do.”

“That’s true.”

”How do you know Barnum?” 

“We met once or twice at some... Well, I guess you could call them parties, when I was still drinking. When I stopped and wasn't working, he called me. I'd never even heard about the clinic before that. I don’t know why he gave me a chance, he didn’t even really know me.”

She cocked her head. “I can see why he did.”

“Because nobody else wanted the job?” He joked.

“Well, that’s one thing. But you know you’re good at what you do.”

Phillip frowned. “I don’t think he had any way of knowing that at that point.”

”He’s a little crazy.”

”Just a little?” He asked. 

Her carefree laugh was infectious, and he soon joined her. It felt good to be out like this, knowing he wasn't going to wake up in the morning with a headache and a craving to drink again, regretting the things he'd done. If anything, he was probably going to regret some things he _wouldn't_ do tonight.

***

“How did you like the food?” She asked as she finished her panna cotta. “My brother always complains that this place just leaves him hungry.”

“Well, I’m full, for now. I might be tempted come back at some point,” he answered, sounding sincere. Anne smiled to herself; it was a new experience to find a man who didn’t complain about vegan food.

“I’m sorry about tonight, Anne.” _Again with the apologizing for things he'd had no control over._

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” This was the best date she’d had since God knew when. Except it wasn’t a date, even if he was now looking at her like she was dessert, making her body heat up in a dangerous way. _Nothing would happen._

Phillip’s fingers found the inside of her wrist in what she thought had to be meant as a friendly gesture. It didn’t stop there, though. His eyes fixated on their hands, the pad of his thumb suddenly caressing her skin, probably feeling the quickening of her pulse. Anne cursed her body for betraying her. She only had to say one word to get him to withdraw his hand, or pull away from him.

Braving a look into his eyes, she kept her hand where it was. _When would he stop having this effect on her?_ Swallowing, she allowed herself to return his affection, returning the charged tenderness he was treating her with. He wanted her, but it wasn’t that simple. Anne didn’t do one-night stands, especially not with colleagues, but even if she did an exception here, that wouldn’t be the end of it.

The night had been amazing, complete with his dorky flirting and genuinely enjoying the food, being willing and open-minded to try things he didn’t know well. What would make it even more perfect would be a kiss, an opportunity for her to show how she felt about him without giving too much away. And yet it couldn’t happen. 

“I’m glad you asked me to stay,” he murmured, his voice low.

“It’s been... Nice,” she confessed.

“Yeah.”

“It’s a shame, but I get it.” He sounded disappointed, his expression stabbing at her heart. _Her stupid heart._

There was loneliness in him, and something about it echoed in her, despite all the differences in their lives. Men rarely held her attention long, over the last few years nobody had earned anything beyond a second date. This wasn’t a date. It was a blip in her perfectly comfortable life plotted by Lettie- who she was going to kill in the morning- and in six months she’d be sitting across someone else. Would Phillip even be working at the clinic then? She was going to win the wager she'd made with W.D., but even Phillip himself had admitted he didn't know much about his plans for the future.

Guiltily, her mind wandered to the painting of him she'd recently finished. She'd used an entire Sunday afternoon on it, trying to get the colors and the shadows just right. Now the piece was hidden in her closed, behind the clothes she rarely wore, if only to make sure nobody else ever saw it. Too bad expressing her feelings and interest in him that way hadn't got him out of her head.

"Can I at least drive you home?" He asked, the vulnerable expression fully gone now, replaced with the normal, friendly but not-too-friendly look he usually gave her when others were around.

"I guess that'd be acceptable," she replied, shrugging. _They were good at this whole pretending thing, weren't they? But if that was true, why were her eyes stinging?_

He opened her the car door and took his own seat in silence.

Although she tried to keep her eyes on the street, she kept stealing glances at his profile, imagining reaching out to touch him. He looked serious, and even tired in the dim light provided by the surrounding buildings and the streetlights. God knew it was never truly dark in New York.

“How are you doing, Phillip? Really?” She asked, her voice quiet, hoping he wouldn’t misunderstand the question.

Pulling to a stop at a red light, he shrugged. “Still taking one day at a time.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said gently.

“Are you sure you want to get involved in this?”

No, she wasn’t, but... They’d just spent a nice evening together, and this wasn’t that big of a risk. _Yet._

“I want to know. Really. As... As a friend,” she stammered. Ugh. She hated being such a crappy liar.

“I’m jealous.”

“Of whom?”

“People who have more. It’s not about money, but _people_. Reasons to keep fighting even when things get hard. Sometimes doing it for yourself... It doesn’t feel like enough.”

She’d heard the same thing from her patients many times before, but hearing it from him felt personal. She did all she could for her patients and although sometimes drawing the line was hard and painful for her to do, she always did it nevertheless. Phillip wasn't her patient, but a colleague she now called a friend, but wanted more from. Still, she shouldn’t have been upset over it, because she wasn’t his girlfriend or anything even remotely close to it.

Although she said nothing, he seemed to sense her feelings and shook his head.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not your problem.”

“Well, I asked you.”

“I’ll shut my mouth now,” he chuckled darkly. “Look, I’ll tell Lettie the truth tomorrow. You or any other innocent, unsuspecting woman won’t be set up with me again. I’m hoping Lettie will accept a monetary contribution instead.”

“I’m sure she will. She’s good people.” _Despite doing this, that was._

“Yeah, I like her a lot.”

“You know, people aren’t meant to survive on their own. We all need others, and admitting that fact isn’t a weakness.”

He nodded. “You’re right.”

After another few minutes of silence, he stopped in front of her building. With one last glance at him, she waved, bidding him goodnight. He returned the wave and drove off, joining the traffic again.

The man wasn’t her patient, or some charity case or a pet project she needed to take on. Maybe if she convinced herself that was the reason for her interest in him, she could shut these feelings down. She didn’t need him, or any other man. Most men were idiots anyway. Especially rich white guys. Just because this one had wormed his way into her heart didn't mean she should give in, especially with the whole matter of someone stealing drugs from the clinic. _It's not Phillip_ , said her gut again. Phillip could find willing company anywhere he went if that was what he wanted. He didn’t need her either.

***

After dropping Anne off, he wound up sitting on his couch, a book on the history of chemotherapy he never managed to open in hand. The feel of her soft, perfect skin under his fingertips at that table... It was painful to know that tonight had been a one-time deal and even that hadn’t been voluntary but orchestrated by someone he was beginning to consider a friend.

Why couldn’t he be someone else? Somehow she’d want in her life? Someone who could be worthy of her efforts and... _Love._ Love was the word. Swallowing hard, he cursed. He hadn’t thought about love in relation to a woman since he’d been a naïve teenager who had believed that first love would last forever instead of waning when you ended up with different hobbies, ambitions and colleges thousands of miles away.

He was falling for Anne. It was something he’d likely known deep down for a while now, but acknowledging it to himself was more serious. The hopeful part of him said it was all okay, and that she felt the connection, too. Somehow it would be okay. Then there was the nastily realistic part of him that said he was a drunk who could barely handle himself alone, much less a very much unadvised relationship that was already giving him the most intense feelings he’d ever experienced. That part of him also said that it was a blessing she didn’t want him, because it was the only thing protecting her from him.

As much of a mess as he certainly was, the one thing that was plain as day to him was that he couldn’t let her down. He couldn’t live with himself if he did. 

***

"How was your night?" Asked Lettie the next morning, practically beaming at him.

"I was told that you're not supposed to match colleagues," he told her, shaking his head. Yet he couldn't really find it in himself to be angry with her. This well-meaning woman had tried to do something nice for him.

"Well, it's an unwritten rule," she argued. "Was it really that bad?"

He sighed. "No... I mean, I had a good night and I think Anne did, too. But this wasn't supposed to happen."

Frowning, Lettie rotated in her chair to look at him properly. "Okay, you've got to tell me more than that, because you lost me completely."

It was the moment of truth, wasn't it?

Wincing, he forced the words out. "I have a drinking problem. Been sober for eight months now, but it's still early days, and I shouldn't be dating anyone."

"Awww Phillip... Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Anne and Barnum are the only ones here who know, and I'd appreciate it if you could-

"Keep it quiet? Of course. I won't tell a soul. But I wish you'd told me before!"

"So, you see why last night was... Well, I guess awkward is the right word." It hadn't been that awkward, though, had it? Especially not after the beginning.

Lettie nodded. "I'm sorry. I've watched the two of you dance around each other ever since you started and I just wanted to help. I didn't mean to make things worse for you."

"You didn't. But it's... It's not going to happen with Anne and me. This is embarrassing, but I haven’t had a real girlfriend since I was a senior... In high school.”

Lettie gasped in shock. “You can’t be serious.”

“I definitely am, unfortunately.” And he couldn’t be considered much of a prize in the eyes of the kind of a woman he was interested in. The words a few of his hookups had said were etched into his mind. He wasn’t much fun when he wasn’t drinking. He had money and

"But you wish something would happen with you and Anne?”

"I'm not sure if I have a right to even wish for something like that. We value each other as friends and colleagues."

His crap received the reaction it deserved when Lettie rolled her eyes. "Excuse my language, but that's bullshit."

"If I wasn't what I am, then maybe... But if I weren't, I probably wouldn't be here, either," he mused before clearing his throat. "Anyway, if it's alright with you, I'll just donate you some money from now on instead of going on a date."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Okay. I'll grant you the exception."

"Thank you."

"You can thank me properly for Christmas. I'm partial to chocolate, especially hazelnut truffles."

Grinning, he was glad to be off the hook. "I'll remember that."

***

Anne had tried to confront Lettie earlier, but had quickly retreated when she'd seen her talking with Phillip. However, it was about time for her to have this talk with her friend.

Striding over confidently, she slammed the file she was holding onto the counter before leaning over and glaring at Lettie.

“Phillip already told me everything. I’m sorry. Really, I am.”

“Let’s agree that you won’t mess with my love life again.”

“Oh, _love_ life, is it? He did say you had fun, too.”

“Knock it off.”

“I was just teasing, but I think you like him. None of my business, of course.”

“Nothing’s going to happen.”

“So you both say.”

Even if Lettie was now aware of Phillip’s problem, she did not know about Anne’s dad, leaving her in an unfair position once again. And yet her family’s past wasn’t something she was ready to discuss with even one of her best friends. Telling Phillip had been a different story altogether, because she’d wanted him to understand the reasons behind her behavior. He’d needed to know, despite the pain the memories brought her.

“I think he’s crazy about you, though.”

Anne rolled her eyes, scoffing. “Oh, come on. That’s your romance-novel loving ass talking.”

“You know I’m often right about these things. But yeah, yeah, I get that he shouldn’t be seeing anyone, but he’s only got a few months left until he’s been sober for an entire year.”

”I’m not looking to date anyone,” Anne sighed. 

“I know you don’t give chances easily, but consider this one, okay?”

”I’m not making any promises.”

"Let it all work itself out, Anne. Anyway, I was hoping to talk to you today, about something else."

"What is it?"

"The missing drugs. I checked the inventory this morning, and it's off again."

Rubbing her forehead, Anne knew what she'd have to do. "Looks like I'll have to go to Barnum about this."

"Do you want me to come along?"

"Yeah, sure. I still don't want to suggest that it's theft..."

Lettie nodded. "I'll come in as your backup. Let's get going."


End file.
